Once inside the third largest building in the village, Pallas found herself pleasantly surprised by the inn's décor. The interior was clean and well-lit by both the windows and the tall fireplace as well as the various lanterns that had been placed in the darker corners. There was a minimum of taxidermy - only the head of some sort of deer on the wall - and there was actually some potted plants scattered about to liven the scenery up a bit. It was surprisingly 'homey.'

It was definitely no Prancing Pony. No Strider lurking in the shadows. In fact, the people here appeared to be fairly typical of small towns and villages anywhere. If Pallas didn't know better, it would almost seem as though she wasn't the only one who had been reborn into this world. That's how much the tavern-goers resembled the people she had grown with in her previous life. Even so, these people were still strangers and Pallas was still uncomfortable being seen in this body with these clothes.

Most eyes were on Berna, however, as the pair strode across the common area to the desk at which a tall man with a severe expression stood, scrawling something in a wide ledger. He was quite slim, bordering on gaunt, and his head was mostly bald save a fringe of wiry silver hair wrapping from ear to ear. His eyes widened in surprise at the two guests headed toward him. Evidently, seeing a Priestess in the great hall of the inn was an uncommon occurrence. 

"Why, hello, Priestess! What brings ye to my humble establishment?" the man said, his face brightening at Berna's approach. 

"Good morning, Eber! I'm on an errand from the mayor, today," Berna replied, gently pulling Pallas in between them with a warm smile. "This sweet young girl is Pallas. We found her in the river a few days back." Berna paused meaningfully as Eber scanned Pallas up and down - not with any sort of perversion but more so the scrutiny of a connoisseur appraising a product. Eber nodded and Berna continued, "Walfrey suggested that she take a room here at the inn until she gets back on her feet. Poor thing didn't have a scrap of clothing or any other belongings."

Eber grunted. With one wooly white eyebrow raised, he replied, "I assume that I will be providing this service without compensation?"

"Of course not! She can work here to cover her room and board, so long as you don't put too much on her. As you can see, she can't be much past thirteen years, so she may not be fully to the task of working 'tween suns." Berna responded ingratiatingly. 

"Aye, she seems a wee unfledged. I'd not have the burden of her collapse on my shoulders," Eber stated. He turned his attention fully on Pallas. "Speak up, missy. Tell me what ye know, what ye can do."

Pallas blinked in surprise. She had been passively observing the conversation despite being its subject and was startled to suddenly be included.

"Oh! Sorry. Um. I'm good with numbers?" Pallas said, grasping at the first thing that popped into her head after being put on the spot. "I've done a bit of work in a flower shop, so I can handle small transactions and tending plants."

Eber shrugged. "I handle the money, here, so that's no concern for ye. And the plants we have here are tended by --" He was suddenly cut off by a loud smashing sound. Everyone rounded in surprise to face the front door, which had been bashed in by the violent entrance of a heavyset man with a mop of sandy-brown hair. Pallas looked up from the man sprawled on the floor to the person who had apparently tossed him through the door.

The morning light harshly illuminated the left side of a man in dark, battered armor, his face hidden by the shadow cast by his draconic helmet. "FOOL!," the armored man bellowed in a deep, commanding voice. "You think to cheat me? You think to steal coin you've not earned?"

The man on the floor cowered, covering his head with both arms and curling into a ball. "Please don't hurt me, Ser!" he cried, his voice shrill with fear and pain. "I never meant to cheat ye'!"

"Oh?" the armored man shouted in response. "Then perhaps you can explain to me why the package you held contained only HALF the luminar ore I had arranged to collect this morning?" He drew a heavy longsword from the sheath at his hip, extending it to the neck of the man on the floor. "Nobody swindles a Mercenary of Roann!"

"Please! Stop!" shrieked the man on the floor, his face crimson with terror. "There was-"

"I'll not have your excuses! I'll simply take your head!" the so-called Mercenary of Roann exclaimed. He pulled his arm back, angling his sword for a powerful cleave. As he began to swing, a small hand caught his arm and held it fast, locking it in place. The Mercenary was so surprised, he dropped his blade.

Pallas stood next to the armored man, her head barely reaching the heraldry emblazoned upon the front of the man's breastplate. Despite her diminutive size, she held the man's plated arm as easily as one might push aside a thin branch as they pass through the woods. 

Her heart was racing, the sound of a galloping horse's hoofbeats drowning out all other noise in her own head. She had moved without thinking, her feet carrying her across the room so quickly she barely had any time to register the change in location. Her silvery-blue eyes were dilated and wide as Pallas glared into the armored man's face and spoke one word. "No."

In response, he let his arm drop heavily to one side with a sound of clattering metal plates. No one in the great hall moved a muscle, having witnessed a small girl stopping a soldier's strike with barely an effort. But Berna's lips twitched ever so slightly with the hint of a half-grin. 

As Pallas's cognition caught up with reality, she stepped back from the Mercenary of Roann and turned her confused gaze to the man prone on the floor. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" The man shook his head excessively, concealing his face behind his hands and his disheveled hair. Pallas frowned and turned her eyes back to the aggressor.

Berna had glided across the room to the mercenary's side, standing purposely on his weapon and turning to face him. "I trust that a member of the prestigious Roann Company would have more civilized methods of addressing a perceived injustice than resorting immediately to violence?"

The armored man shook his head as if to throw off his shock, which was immediately replaced with indignation. "The man is a thief! A liar!" he charged, pointing a finger toward his victim.

Pallas knelt down beside the accused, gently shaking his arm. "Sir, can you talk to me?" she asked softly but insistently. "Can you tell me your side of the story?"

The man pried his hands from his face, revealing a pudgy man in his mid-forties with a scraggly beard and bloodshot eyes wet with tears. He nodded as he took a shuddering breath and rose to a sitting position on the floor. His voice shook as he began, "I was runnin' late to our arranged meetin' place an' rushed out me house on foot to get 'ere in time." He wiped his brow and looked into Pallas's eyes as he continued. "Was in such a hurry, I only snagged one o' the two parcels, y'see? I had them set side by side in me kitchen an' I thought I had both until I got 'ere and met with Ser Pinemark!"

Pallas nodded and closed her eyes to address the fellow in armor. "What about you? Did you actually ask where the rest of the order was before you went nuts and tossed this dude through the door?" She opened her eyes and looked at the man with an almost predatory gaze.

"What's it to you, wench?" the man replied dismissively. "You're nobody! Just some trollop in a tavern!" He stomped threateningly toward Pallas, pulling a dagger from his belt. Suddenly, his body stiffened and he gurgled wordlessly. Berna, standing beside him, had one hand raised in his direction and a façade of effortless concentration.

"Ser Pinemark, was it? I'll thank you not to resort to this savage behavior. It's unbecoming of a representative of your fine Company." She let her arm down and the armored man fell to his knees. "Quite frankly, I'd sooner see you dismissed than give you further opportunity to abuse your strength. But fortunately for you, I am not without mercy. I shall simply letter a missive to your commander, detailing how a man of your stature spends his idle time abusing the fine folk of our community. I'm sure you can keep your commission after serving some form of penance."

The man named Pinemark removed his helmet and glared defiantly at Berna. "Do what you will, Churchwitch! Commander Blackfall will know the right of it! I'll be knocking back mead with my fellows in no time!" A mutinous smile spread across his lips. "Do you truly believe a whorebride of Listern has any authority over me?"

Berna returned his smile with one of her own, kicking the man's sword toward him. "You're new to this posting, aren't you, Ser Pinemark?"

"Aye, why do you ask?"

"My name is Berna Blackfall. Second Priestess of the Listern Church of Rivergarde. And older sister of Commander Eshan Blackfall," Berna replied grandly. "I suggest that you and Mr. Dammor here close out your transaction peacefully so you can be on your way."

Pinemark's face fell and the color drained from his skin. He fumbled with his helmet a moment before slamming it on his head, returning his sword to its sheath and climbing to his feet. With an exaggerated thrust of his arm, he offered his hand to Mr. Dammor. "I'll... uh... I'll wait here while you fetch the remainder of the ore."

Mr. Dammor sniffled loudly before accepting Pinemark's help to regain his feet. The two men regarded each other in silence for a moment before Mr. Dammor nodded wordlessly and trotted out the door. Pinemark turned stiffly to those in the common room and bowed. Turning on his heel, he began to walk out the door when a loud voice called from the reception desk. "Ser Pinemark! A moment!" 

Pallas turned to see the innkeep, Eber, beckoning the mercenary to his desk. "I believe ye owe me a few marks for the repair of my door? After all, I'd hate to send an invoice with Priestess Blackfall's letter to yer commander," the older man continued calculatingly.

Ser Pinemark nodded curtly and began walking toward the desk. Now that the excitement had died down, the handful of folks finishing their late breakfast in the hall resumed their conversations in hushed tones intended only for each other.

Pallas stepped over to Berna with excitement written on her face. "I have. So many. Questions."

Berna laughed and responded, "I have no shortage of inquiries for you, as well, my dear! But I suspect I'll have some of my answers shortly." She reached out to place a hand on Pallas's back and guide her to Eber's desk as the Mercenary of Roann, Ser Pinemark, hastily departed. "You see, Eber has a rare talent for assessment and it was not only your lodging that brought us here."

A baffled expression crossed Pallas's face as they approached Eber. The innkeep's countenance had softened into something resembling a smile. "That was an interesting display ye provided, there, Miss Pallas."

She tilted her head curiously. "What do you mean?"

Eber reached under his desk and retrieved what appeared to be a chunk of stone cut to resemble a block of wood. It was no bigger than Pallas's fist and was much more dense than it looked. He motioned for Pallas to take the stone.

She hesitantly accepted it, expecting some strange magical reaction, but nothing happened. Instead, she turned it over to examine its reddish surface from different angles. Upon closer inspection, Pallas guessed that what she was holding was petrified wood. "What... do you want me to do with this?" Pallas asked dubiously.

"I'd like ye to crush it, please," Eber answered.

"What?"

"Close yer hand around that piece of stone and render it dust," Eber replied with a mischievous grin.

Pallas frowned. "I'm sorry, do I look like She-Ra to you?" Eber's blank expression indicated that the pop culture reference had fallen on ignorant ears. "Look how little my hands are! I couldn't crush this rock with my bare hands no matter how hard I tried!" She lifted her hand and began to squeeze her fingers tight to demonstrate. There was a feeling of warm pressure and suddenly the petrified wood popped loudly, spraying tiny fragments in the air. Pallas cried out in surprise and dropped the dusty remains of the stone on Eber's desk.

Berna regarded the proceedings with keen interest, but said nothing as Eber continued. "I have an ability to read a person. It's nothing so invasive as divining their thoughts or seeing their soul. But I can tell when a person is more than meets the eye." He leaned in conspiratorially and said in an excited near-whisper, "Ye, Miss Pallas, are more. There's an aura about ye, something greater than the rest of us. Ye have the mark of divinity on ye."

"No shit?" Pallas asked in surprise.

"Pallas! A lady doesn't use such language!" Berna sternly interjected.

"I'm not a lady! ...Oh. Wait. I am," Pallas replied distractedly. "Um... Sorry? I was just really surprised."

Eber nodded sagely. "It's not every day one finds out they're blessed by the Godhead."

"Now, Eber, don't judge too quickly. We know she's no mere girl, but we won't know any more than that until she sees Grand Priestess Edeve in the capital," Berna cautioned. 

Pallas squinted at Berna suspiciously. "You thought there was something different about me? That's why you wanted to bring me here?"

"Pallas, I'm inclined to believe the better of people and I do trust you. But even a child could tell that you've not been entirely forthright about yourself," Berna said as she drew Pallas closer by the shoulders. "You wake up in a strange place surrounded by people you don't know. Anyone would be distrustful, dear. I don't blame you. I just wanted to open a dialogue of honesty so we can give you the help you need."

The sidelong glances of a dozen or so patrons were beginning to wear down on Pallas. She knew she had done something unusual, but she couldn't clearly remember the how or what of it. All she could really recall was talking to Eber, then a blur before she was talking to Mr. Dammor. Whatever it was, the folks in the great hall were obviously intrigued by the young girl in their presence.

"Alright," Pallas said resignedly. "How about we go see my new room and have a chat somewhere more private? I feel like this isn't a conversation I want a ton of people eavesdropping on."

Eber gestured with one bony finger toward a staircase on the far wall. "Up the stairs, second door on the right. The bed is made and it should be comfortable enough for the young lady."

Berna bowed her head to Eber thankfully and coaxed Pallas toward the stairs. Pallas allowed herself to be guided as she studied her hand. 'How on Earth did I do that to that rock?' Somewhere in the back of her head, Pallas thought she heard a soft laugh in Athena's voice.