Evening, 2 Summer, 510 AV
Syliras had overwhelmed Kane at first, though soon enough he'd gotten back into the rhythm of city life, the wilderness soon being put aside in his mind, though another took its place; the kind of caution that can only come of having stayed in the jungle of Sunberth. Clad in his sack cloth tunic and grey-green woolen trousers, his feet set in his jackboots, having left them only a handful of times since leaving Sunberth. Over it all was his olive cloak, the heavy material barely moving in the self-made 'breeze' created by Kane's brisk pace. Most importantly though was the knife he'd slipped into the waistband of his trousers, his mind still running on the Sunberth mentality he'd grown so used to over the years, though dull from overuse it still held a point, and should it come to blows Kane could fell an opponent...
Though, as he ventured through the streets, he began to doubt he'd need it more and more, the occasional shady character or beggar being so few and far between that it garnered in Kane a newfound respect for Syliras, and helped bolster the already hefty standing he held the Knights in, their almost non-stop vigil making such possible. Kane was too used to seeing people shook up around every corner, the beggars mobbing you, (sometimes only withdrawing after you struck one of their ranks down) and everyone eyeing you, wondering just how many mizas you carried on you; all of which was strangely absent here, save for the odd case every now and then, though it seemed... impersonal, if such a term was fitting. One just became part of the crowd, a nondescript face that was barely worth thinking of, much less actually looking at. Though it was nice to be unnoticeable for a while, to not be watched. Still, one could get quite bored not being watched, or not doing anything for that matter, and so after providing shelter for both himself and his horse he'd ventured to the local watering hole, looking to see just what there was to do in town. The local tavern often was the best place to find out such things, speaking to a blunt local always took a better fancy to him than someone paid to do such, giving an honest opinion and a true recommendation rather than words swayed by gold, and Kane could've almost been described as ecstatic when he'd heard that there was actually a merchant that specialized in tomes, or at least as ecstatic as one could imagine Kane.
Already he'd set about making it there late in the afternoon, his business having taken up a good chunk of the day, and once directions to the locale in question were secured, he was off. The fading light of the day cast a warm orange glow to all it touched, the sun beginning to sink low to the west, and Kane was somewhat confused as to just which of the stores was the one in question, all of them being as far as he could tell, unmarked in the ways of identification. Soon enough though, after testing each, he believed he'd reached his intended destination as he opened a thick door, the scent of aged paper and air heavy with dust wafting across his nose as he stepped inside, his boot's hobnails almost slipping on the soft layer of dust as he transferred from the rough cobblestones outside. Already, even in the dim light of the place he could make out shelf upon shelf of tome and token, some worthless, others undoubtedly priceless. It was, to use a common saying, like a kid in a candy store for Kane, the many volumes of information at his fingertips, if only for the right price. Still, it took much of his reserves to not just pull something off of one of the shelves and shuffle through its pages, though he knew such an act would likely be met with scorn by the merchant who owned the place. Instead, he opted to call out, his voice hopefully carrying throughout the place... though perhaps the owner had forgotten the latch on the door, and had forgotten to lock up when they'd left.
"Anyone in?"
