The courier took one look at our intense conversation and stopped dead in his tracks. He didn't interrupt. He didn't glitch through the table. He simply leaned against the far wall, crossed his arms, and waited for us to finish.
The air in the Prancing Pony was thick with the smell of roasted meat and stale ale. I was leaned in close to the hooded stranger, my hand hovering near my dagger. He was about to reveal the location of the Elder Scroll—the one secret that could save the realm. The courier took one look at our intense
"Listen closely," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the crackling hearth. "The map is hidden beneath the—" He simply leaned against the far wall, crossed
"As I was saying," the stranger continued, "it's beneath the roots of the Great Oak." He was about to reveal the location of