There was something happening at the tavern. It drew many a curious stare and subsequent idle hands.
The grounds were a bustle with a small company of seasoned men and well-bred horses. They were clearly weary from their travels, having just arrived. They appeared well-kept in protective armor that gleamed in the winter sun and their coin pouches were heavy at their belts. Their weapons were safely sheathed so as to not appear quite so dangerous. The shrewd manner their eyes swept over the snow-covered property belayed that assumption and assured that their mettle had been tested in combat. There was a crest upon them, each and every man present, the winged form of a delicate bird emblazoned on chest, pauldron, weapon, or buckle. Their varied features revealed their likely mercenary origins, but they had traveled together. They fought together and it showed in every movement.
A dwarf, bearded, with leathered skin and roughened features eased from his mount and muttered under his breath about the cold. He stomped his boots and handed the reigns to a man patiently waiting nearby to lead towards the stables. The other men showed him deference, despite his stature, and he marched towards the tavern door with purpose, straightening the heavy gear he wore as he went. Two muscled fellows trailed at his back to stand at either side of the door. His steps were heavy upon the wooden porch and he shouldered inside, his beady black eyes ghosting over those gathered. Idle hands likely found themselves busy again and he snorted, finding no obvious danger here. He made his way towards the man tending the bar and ordered a stiff drink, peering closely at the other man. "Three of your best rooms, for an extended period if possible." Despite his grizzled appearance, his vocabulary marked him as a educated, but foreign. The drink was thrown back and the price was haggled. Once the deal was struck, he turned and lumbered outside again, his age showing in every stride he took. Bad knee. The right one.
He paused just outside and lifted a hand to wave to a figure down the path. The slim figure sat astride a massive warhorse that danced sideways and mouthed against its bit in anticipation. At the wave, the form moved closer. The draft horse was quite tall, its great feet feathered with longer fur. There was a blanket of white splashed on its croup mottled with black. A well-muscled, stocky fellow reached out to catch hold of her waist to ease her to the ground and the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. The well-oiled leather of her attire gleamed, tightly fitting. There was decorate stitching upon her chest - two crimson wings. An expensive sword sat upon her hip, though it hardly appeared decorative.
She brushed at the front of herself to rid her of the dust traveling upon the road accumulated and adjusted the gloves upon her hands. The same delicate bird was upon her shoulder, a pauldron much more intricate than her men's adornments. Another sterling bird-wing shone at her temple. Her hair matched the red of her belt, cut short and combed back on the right of her head and falling to under her breast on the other. The wealth and prestige she held were written quite clearly in every movement she made, in every care she took. This was their leader. Casting a brief grateful smile at the man who had assisted her, she moved forward towards the tavern awaiting her.
The grizzled dwarf lingering expectantly at the door nodded with respect to the slight woman and shifted to allow her entrance. She passed within and allowed her glacial colored gaze to drift over each and every patron and worker. Each of them received acknowledgement and a warm smile that brightened her countenance considerably. She almost appeared shy in that moment, with every eye focused upon her. The dwarf at her back cleared his throat and pressed a key to the best room into her palm, nodding towards the stairs. She turned her head in that direction, revealing the three scarred gashes that cut across the right side of her face that almost seemed to shine in the dim light. Silver-blue in color. Another smattering near the bridge of her nose like freckles. Battle scars.
She leaned back, behind her, to murmur to him. With that, the woman vanished up the stairs.
He watched her go affectionately before clearing his throat and lifting his voice. "The Lady Egris Verreaux wishes to extend her modest thanks for your gracious allowance of rooms." He seemed genuine enough in his words. "Any food or drink you may consume this night will be paid by her shillings. She suggests that you work to clear the kitchen of its food, for there will be more supplies arriving on the morrow." He nodded towards the kitchen staff peering out at him, his voice boisterous enough to draw attention. With that, he disappeared upstairs with another three of her most capable looking soldiers. The men upon the lawn painstakingly cared for the horses before they climbed astride their own to find other inns, other taverns within the city walls.
The morning would bring hope. The stores of the tavern would be full nearly to bursting, as was her relayed promise.