THRYSTAN We pull our horses to a stop in front of the Wreath, a modest tavern with weathered wooden walls and a sign creaking in the wind. The stable boy, a scrawny lad with dirty blonde hair, scurries over to collect them. Arwyn grips his shoulder, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Up to no good, are you, Willy?"The boy giggles and squirms under her arm until he finally breaks free, or she lets him go. With a mischievous grin, he hands her a small brown pouch, which she quickly slips behind her back, tucking it into her belt. As she adjusts her cloak, I catch sight of my dagger tucked there as well.She's been carrying it around this whole time?"Haven't seen you in days," Willy says, his eyes twinkling. "Thought the goons got you, but you look well." His gaze shifts to me, and he gasps, eyes wide with excitement. "And you came here with Death-roll! Are you two friends?" He bounces on his toes, as if he's just uncovered a grand revelation."What?" Arwyn asked, her eyes narrowing i
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