Finally, just as the key turned in the door’s heavy, steel lock and the door swung open, he built up the will to call out to her.

“Uh, miss with the weird hair and the missing arm?” he said nervously, and his nerves only became more visible when Zel’s gaze immediately snapped to meet his, bearing an unspoken question about what he wanted. He cleared his throat and asked, “You uh… You kill the maneater what had a contract posted on its head at Quincy’s?”

“...That was me, yes. Why?” she gave a self-satisfied answer, though she was unsure as to the purpose of his question.

“I just… Wanted to thank you, is all,” said the guard, grief gripping his face as tightly as his gloved hands gripped his spear. “Bloody thing took me brother after he came back from the war. An’ to think you did it with one arm too…”

“Oh no, this-” she began, glancing at her stump then back at the guard, “-is new. Glad you got some closure, though.”

The scarred guardsman gave a thankful, if morose nod, and Zel slipped through the door alongside Zef. It seemed that Strolvath and Alcerys had already gone off in their own directions, so the two women just made their way into town with Riverside Remedies as a general destination.

Right now, it was just good to be back in civilization. 

They trod through these white-cobbled streets, drawing a wide variety of looks from the passersby as they went, and ignoring all of them. Following the street signs relatively quickly had them at the riverside promenade, just a bridge crossing and a jaunt alongside the promenade away from their destination. 

Only, they’d emerged onto the promenade near a hole-in-the-wall shop that seemed to be serving food prepared quickly and on the spot. It was marked by a recessed door, a small sign marking it as “Kanbu’s Corner”, and a smell that permeated the street.  Zel’s stomach growled at the first waft of… What was that smell anyway? She genuinely didn’t know, but she did know that it smelled like something she wanted to eat.

“Want to get something to eat?” Zef piped up after her gaze drifted in the same direction as Zel’s and landed on the recessed door with its small plaque. 

“...Yeah,” Zel agreed. “Anything’s better than salted pork.”

Entering Kanbu’s Corner greeted them with a room so small the entire establishment could fit onto a cart, with four small seats lined up in front of the counter. A bulky, ancient-looking mechanical register sat in the very back behind the counter, near a door to what could only be presumed to be the back room. One of the seats was occupied by an at first glance well-dressed Grekurian that seemed busy drinking. 

Despite the cramped size, the place was pristine and richly decorated with a variety of small trinkets - little statuettes, lanterns hanging from the ceiling, printed images of outlandish scenes pinned to the walls. Behind the counter were two stoves with large pots and a variety of other kitchenware that one would expect in a place such as this. 

There was also a large blackboard on the wall, with the day’s menu in white chalk. 

CHICKEN SOUP - 1g

PULLED PORK + MASH + GRAVY - 3g

CUSTARD PIEROGI x4 - 3g

PORK MEDALLIONS - 2g

EXTRA MASH - 1g

EXTRA GRAVY - 1g

Who they assumed to be the establishment’s proprietor emerged from the back room, carrying a pot and a bottle. He looked quite old, with long grey hair, bushy eyebrows, his angular face wrinkled like an ancient mountain cut into shape by great rivers. He let out a brief grunt as he hefted the pot onto the stove and walked over to the other customer. 

Slamming the bottle down on the counter, he pulled a glass from under it, popped the cork, and poured the glass full of… Something. It was some slightly syrupy liquid with luminescent blue strands floating in it, and it stunk to high heaven of alcohol.

“Heh, you’re the best Kanbu…” muttered the customer slurping down the liquor as if it were water. Kanbu turned his attention to them, semi-apologetically uttering, “Welcome, welcome, take a seat. What’ll it be ladies?”

“The pierogi sound good,” ordered Zel, sitting down on the stool closest to the door. 

Nodding acknowledgement of the order, Kanbu looked to Zef and the blonde ordered in turn, “I’ll have the same.”

“Coming right up,” the old cook said and sprung into motion with practiced flow that evidenced decades of muscle memory. 

While they waited, Zel took a moment to get a better look at the other customer, idly looking around at the many trinkets and decorations while she extracted her target’s appearance from her peripheral vision. That swollen, purplish nose, the greasy hair that echoed the remnants of a once well-groomed hairstyle, the wiry mustache matted with a breakfast’s worth of old food. Even his clothes were pitiful, well-tailored and of decent quality, but pock-marked with small holes and stained with a variety of suspiciously crusty substances. His sunken green eyes glimmered with sharpness unbecoming of a drunk, and his face had wrinkles that didn’t belong, as if he’d held a lurid grimace for years on end until recently.

The drunkard finished his glass and poured himself another. He suddenly broke into a ramble, seemingly continuing an existent conversation.

“You never know, your own neighbor could be a dangerous war criminal. What if the attacks on the walls were perpetrated by some Ikesiochauvinist angry about foreigners in the city?” questioned the man, speaking with an overly clean cadence that betrayed the rehearsed - or at least oft-repeated - nature of his words.

“Shut up about your politico bullshit, Henry. You’re not fooling anyone,” the cook laughed in a disregarding manner. “I’ve learned to question better lies said by more trustworthy faces. Now buy something or leave, you’re scaring away my customers.” 

“But Ikesiochauvinists-” blubbered the drunk again. 

The cook spun around and pulled a sparklock from under the counter, pointing it at the man as he repeated himself in a steely tone, “Leave it is, then. Go peddle your politico grift somewhere else. Or better yet, go get that stupid shit out of your head. You’re done drinking here until you do, for your own good.”