The Montblanc Mountain RangeGoldsmith’s Inn, Twenty Miles from Sebastian's residenceThe early autumn chill bit at the man's skin, which was still exposed to the elements. It wasn't the bone-chilling cold of winter. This had a distinct vibe, softer in some ways.Dry leaves and campfires filled the air. The source, the golden-haired man understood, was the fireplace of Goldsmith's Inn. He'd been there before on his way through this region of the northern mountains, and he knew the owner and cook, Mrs. Gray, would be making some kind of stew right about now.He got a scent of onions, garlic, and chicken stew just on cue. The odour entered his nostrils and travelled directly to his gut, generating a loud rumble.He hadn't eaten anything all day, save for a biscuit for breakfast and a piece of dry pork for lunch. His strategy had always been to travel light and quickly, then have a large dinner.However, he couldn't see the Inn's lights, but he knew it was around the corner.He yanked on
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