The cortain nodded as the door to the common room opened. A middle-aged man entered the room. His dark cloak had a hood, but the traveler had chosen not to use it. His beady eyes scanned the room slowly as he took a seat at an empty table on the side of the room opposite the Balomar troops. The innkeeper delivered plates of food to some of the soldiers and then walked across the room to the newcomer. The stranger ordered a meal and a cup of ale. He stared vacantly across the room as he waited for his food.

Marshal Berman watched the new arrival in silence for a few moments. When the innkeeper delivered the man’s food, the traveler sniffed the plate cautiously, his hawkish nose crinkling with concern. He finally shrugged and began eating his food.

“Do you watch every traveler with such interest?” Lord Oktar asked as he noted the marshal’s distraction.

“I guess I do,” sighed the marshal as he returned his attention to the Balomar lord. “It is one thing to protect a lord against known enemies, but suspecting every unknown person has become irritating. I will feel safer when you are back on the estate. Perhaps I should double your guard.”

“An entire corte is more than sufficient,” Lord Oktar shook his head. “Any more men and I will go broke feeding them. Keep them training for what is to come.”

“Very well,” agreed the marshal as he watched the stranger devour his food and push his plate away from him.

The soldier across the table from the marshal noted the concern on his leader’s face. He turned to watch the stranger stand up and leave the table. The soldier’s hand drifted towards the knife in his belt, but he relaxed as the traveler turned and headed for the door.

“Now you have made your men nervous as well,” chided Lord Oktar as he shook his head. “If a traveler cannot stop at an inn for a meal, Khadora is in a poor state indeed.”

When the stranger reached the front door of the inn, he suddenly turned and threw a knife at Lord Oktar. The Balomar lord looked on in horror as the knife sped towards him. The room erupted in shouts with soldiers scrambling to their feet. Being crowded into the corner of the room, the lord knew there was no way he would be able to rise in time to avoid the knife. Lord Oktar closed his eyes as he waited for death to claim him.