Chapter 33: Overlook
As the hours slipped toward evening, Daylan and the others set off to search for the phantoms' hideouts. Daylan took the western shore, focusing on the areas around the monastery. Medora headed east, her eyes set on a few mysterious spots and the building she had noticed earlier. Astara moved toward the southern side, determined and silent.
Daylan strolled through the western alleys, hands tucked into his coat as he calmly surveyed his surroundings, occasionally stopping to ask passersby about any rumors they'd heard.
He was growing bored of their vague responses and the way they seized every opportunity to tell unrelated stories, but he pushed forward regardless.
During his inquiries, Daylan was directed to a well-known local tavern. According to the locals, the tavern keeper had once been abducted by a cult and somehow managed to escape. Though Daylan wasn't a drinker, he knew he had to visit the place, order a few drinks, and strike up a conversation with the keeper.
Without a moment's hesitation, Daylan made his way to the tavern. The place was crowded with adventurers and drunkards, their laughter and slurred voices filling the smoky air.
As he stepped inside, several heads turned, casting him confused or wary glances. His attire was far too refined for a place like this—too clean, too composed. To them, he looked like a high-class noble or, worse, someone sent by the Church to collect debts.
He walked with quiet confidence, ignoring their stares as he made his way to the counter and took a seat. But as he settled in, his head snapped around, confused by the lingering gazes—why were they still watching him?
As his thoughts drifted, the tavern keeper approached, wiping his hands on a rag before leaning slightly over the counter.
"What can I get you, mister?" he asked, his tone neutral but curious.
He turned to the keeper. "Uhm... anything you think its best. I don't want something too strong, though."
The keeper gladly served him an ale, sliding the mug across the counter with a nod.