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Before the sun sets, I will be back with its head. You have
my word on it."
They looked rather dubious at this last statement, but
thanked him nonetheless. If he succeeded, they would be all
too happy to honor him with a feast. If he failed, they
would be no worse off than if he had never come.
At Torbin's request, they found him a place to stay for
the night. He was also served one of the finest meals the
inn's cook had ever made, though the knight himself had
never really been that fond of fish and thus did not realize
the trouble the woman had gone through. As it was, he was
barely able to down the foul dish. Torbin was also ignorant
of the fact that she had outdone herself for the sole reason
that she believed this young man was going out to die and
deserved one last fine meal.
Torbin made no attempt to converse with those who
drifted in and out of this poor attempt at a public inn. The
few who stayed for very long only glanced his direction,
that same hungry look in their eyes. The knight found
himself anxiously awaiting the morrow.
He bedded down for the night - it could only loosely be
called a bed, being more of a bug-ridden mattress on a
piece of wood - and eventually drifted off into sleep despite
his numerous tiny companions
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