"Sir… what are we doing here?" Tull asked the prince. The two of them were drinking ale near the entrance to a bar that overlooked the royal road leading to the palace. The tavern sat on a low rise, its shade a relief from the noon glare, its canvas awnings bleached thin by years of sun. A brass chime tapped lazily in the wind and the smell of fried chickpea and old beer hung to the timber lintel. Beyond the railing, heat rippled above the road like oil on a pan.
Unlike Ludwig who had to take a detour to the city of the sun temple, the two of them were much faster as they headed straight to the heart of the capital. Thanks to the prince's pockets especially they managed to make it without a hitch and were already staking out the main path. The prince kept his back to the wall and his eyes on the mirrored glass bottle behind the bar, using its warped reflection to watch the street without looking like he was watching it.
