Silver Insanity

The man just "Hmph"s at you. If you continue to pester him, he'll get up and move to his room, locking and barring the door behind himself.

Willoughby decides to overlook the man's poor manners in this case, and reflects that the Ailuris has spent enough time sleeping at the bar and should be helped to a bed of some kind. When this errand is completed, he returns and asks the innkeeper whether he has heard anything of Twill.

"Well... The group in the corner dismisses the tales of Twill as mere peasant fantasies. I doubt they know anything of his whereabouts. One of the bards," he gestures to the foppish looking one, "came down from the north, and he doesn't have any stories I didn't already know. The other one, though, came up from the south, and he did have a new story. Might not be anything real, or useful - but it's the best lead I can find for you."

"South, hm? Thank you."

Willoughby turns to speak with the bard from the south, asking him for any new tales of Twill.

The mountain of a man's voice is rough and gravelly; it's clear he took up an instrument that occupies his mouth as an excuse to never be asked to sing. Despite that, he spins an entertaining tale - though, in deference to your request for facts (and the quality of the food), he pauses the story every now and then to note which parts are more likely to be true, and which are certainly embellishments.

The tale, in its unvarnished state, is summarized here, though the bard is not able to tell you the exact name of the town from which Twill departed - merely that it was somewhere in the vicinity of Bor and Phee.

Willoughby can't suppress a grin as he listens to the story of Twill's latest escapades. "Second-best chair, indeed! This Twill fellow seems to be a rather remarkable sort, all right. Thank you, sir; well told."

Willoughby listens to the conversation in the room for a while longer, and then retires to a room in the inn for the night, inviting Amertine to join him.

Having been unable to replicate lemonade after several hours of work, Ametrine finally notices that the chefs are no longer cooking, and that the patrons have all retired to their rooms. He quickly closes the black barrel and returns it to his sack before leaving the kitchen.

Taking up Mr. Willoughby's offer, Ametrine takes a pillow off the bed and sets it down on a nightstand to sleep on for the night.

Willoughby does not sleep. Instead, he quietly pores over a map: having noted the location of Bor and Phee, he examines the distance between that area and the capital, attempting to draw some kind of inference about the nature of Lauren's kidnappers, or the approximate location at which Twill and Lauren crossed paths. Assuming that the two are continuing to travel via carpet, what sort of destination might they have in mind? What nearby haven could they seek? Such things must be considered carefully...

Ametrine wakes up the next morning. Stretching on his pillow, he yawns before looking around the room.

"Mr. Willoughby, you're already up? Wow, you really do take your job seriously! So, where are we headed? Got anymore lemonade?"

Not really waiting for an answer, Ametrine goes downstairs to secure breakfast. Not sure what his companion would like, Ametrine orders eggs and lemonade for himself, and tries to recall what Mr. Willoughby had for lunch when they met yesterday.

He hopes that such a meal can also be consumed for breakfast.

Mr. Willoughby is not the only person already up.

The foppish bard is casually juggling three hard-boiled eggs, one-handed, as he tears into a hunk of bread.

The Ailuris that Mr. Willoughby had questioned the night before is sitting in a corner, staring at his breakfast, clutching his head, and generally looking morose.

And, when you first came down, you catch a momentary glimpse of someone in a green cloak, on their way out.

As for breakfast, though...
"Eggs we can manage - but lemonade? We don't have any lemons. Here, try some of this." says the cook, handing you a mug of the inn's best ale (though the inn's best still bears some resemblance to paint remover).