57th of Fall, 511av.
How many days had it been since he started taking refuge at the hotsprings, waiting for a child to get better? He had recieved a choice bit of intelligence from her already on the adversary he faced, so his interest in the girl was simply out of a consideration of responsibility after saving her from the fires which burned her farmhouse. The old couple, and the servants reported regularly that her health was improving but she would not be ready for a trip to Mura anytime soon.
So be it.
He would wait and if his business was concluded with the man hounding him one way or the other then he would simply give the mizas for her passage to the old couple who ran the springs with their servants. It was the least he could do.
Until then, he would work with the carver brothers blessing here, helping to fix the establishment and work on the roofing. Apparently the old man, Max had arranged for a quiet writ of service to be paid to the carvers for his time here, and his days between bouts of paranoia were filled with many a myriad tasks.
He had never truly realized the sheer amount of work and effort it took to successfully keep an inn in repair. Guests were always breaking stuff by accident, even though most of them were quelled into compliance for paying for the damages, but the main issue was the springs themselves were tedious on the structures which were tailored to its use.
The constant steam soaked decades old wood, and though the planks were still well preserved, the swelling from the moisture sometimes gave rise to other problems. Adjustments in piping were commonplace, as well as keeping the drainage clear and free so the waters would continue to circulate. It was a fascinating time though, and seeing how things were engineered gave the rogue a perverse pleasure in his mind to see just how each of the bathhouse's systems worked together to become a system.
Though right now that was a little besides the point as he was working on the roof today.