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“I remember,” says Shorty. “He gave them the option of keeping the casks and sending them off on their own, or they could return them and receive five lashes.”

Laughing, Potbelly bursts out, “You should have seen their faces! I think one was actually contemplating keeping his cask but the other two talked him out of it. They didn’t relish the idea of being made slaves again for a single cask of ale each.”

“You guys didn’t interact with the innkeeper did you?” he asks. They all reply that they hadn’t. “Good,” continues James. “Then let’s stop there.”

With Reilin out front, they move to enter the town. The rest of them pull their hoods closer about them to better hide their faces. The town has no protective wall surrounding it, the road simply passes through the outlying buildings.

Evidence of their recent occupation is evident. The sight of slaves walking the street is practically nonexistent. On his way out of the Empire, Illan stripped the towns of their slaves, both to bolster his own army and that James had asked it of him.

As they make their way through the city, the people appear to have gotten over the effects of the occupation and have returned to business as usual. A few glance at them as they ride by but none give them more than a cursory glance. At one spot they come to a building that must have been torched during the occupation, the smell of char is still in the air even after so long.

Out front of the burned out building is an old man dressed poorly sitting cross-legged with a bowl on the ground before him. A couple coppers rest in the bottom of the bowl. Feeling the need to help, James removes a silver from his pouch and flips it toward the beggar as he rides by. When the coin sails through the air and comes close to the old man, his arm shoots up and snatches the coin. Putting the coin quickly within his meager clothes, he nods a thank you to James.

James returns the nod with a slight smile and continues on his way. Before the rest of the others pass by the old man, other coins are flipped to him as well. All toll, they must have given the old man over two silver’s worth of coins.

“It might not help him get off the streets,” James comments to Jiron, “but it might make his life more bearable for awhile.”

“True,” nods Jiron. He’s come to realize that ever since he first met James, he’s developed an appreciation for the world and his place in it that he hadn’t had before. When he was still in the City of Light and fighting in the Pits, he didn’t care much for others or how they may feel. But since joining with James and having him do ‘good things’ for no other reason than to do them, he’s come to understand that there is more to life than simply surviving.

Another way that James has affected him is in the way he no longer sees killing as a solution. If the circumstances warrant it, he will end someone’s life in the blink of an eye. But now, he questions more closely whether he must resort to that or not.

Continuing on their way, they finally make it past the last of the buildings on the south side of town. “The inn’s about an hour away,” Shorty states.

Nodding, James casts a quick look at the setting sun. It’ll be getting dark about the time they get there, which suits him nicely.

The sun sets and twilight begins setting in by the time the group of buildings of which the inn is a part appears ahead of them. Within the cluster of buildings, they see a sign of a tankard of ale which must indicate a tavern as well as another bearing a sign of a wagon with a load full of goods. Obviously, this place caters to those traveling upon the road.

Stopping before the only three story building here, they see a sign of a flowing river passing underneath a bed. This must be the inn. They send Reilin inside to get their rooms, who returns several minutes later.

He got five rooms with enough beds for all of them. Around back they find the stables and after getting their horses settled in, they head up to their rooms. As they