The sun had just begun to rise on the Waystone Inn when a man, tall and broad of shoulder stepped through what the Innkeeper had been sure had been a locked door. The black haired stranger made little sound as he approached the bar, but every swish of his cape and fall of his boot battered at the silence The two men met each other's gaze in silence at first, the new comer's brilliant blue eyes contrasting sharply to the other's algae green.
"We're not open just yet friend." The flame haired innkeeper thought to adopt a posture of aloof relaxation but at a second glance over the man before him he thought better of it; For though while the smiling stranger stood at his ease he held himself as a fighter, not just any fighter mind, every slight motion was one of casual and practiced control. If not for his expressive features and looseness of his red, gold embroidered cloak he could easily pass for a native of Ademre. If for no other reason than respect for the stranger's apparent skill he made no attempt to disguise his own.
"That's fine, I'm happy to wait, surely you wouldn't mind me taking my pipe inside, the rain has lightened but it's still miserable out there." So it was, Kote could see through the windows on the far wall the early morning sky was still grray and water still poured from it. Yet not a drop seemed to have touched this man, his cloak and hair still dry as a bone. The innkeeper nodded his acquiesce, at which the stranger lifted his pipe from beneath his cloak and clutched it between his teeth.
In the brief moment the fine garment was opened Kote noted the thin blade blade at the stranger's side, some kind of bird marked the handle but before he could identify the exact type his eyes were drawn to the spark suddenly flickering to life seemingly out of nothing in the bowl of the pipe. Kote's eyebrows rose at that. It was simple sympathy of course but even so the ease with which the man performed it was impressive.
The Black haired man seemed not to notice the innkeeper's interest in his pipe, in fact he seemed lost in thought, puffing away at his pipe and staring up above Kote's eyeline, at his hair. He was used to the reaction of course, and ran a hand through the bright mess of orange.
"Not many red heads where your from?" He asked, breaking the trance into which the stranger had seemed to put himself.
"As a matter of fact not." The stranger said chuckling pipe smoke from his nostrils."Though I used to be one myself, I do miss it some times." Kote had traveled far in his day, seen people dye their hair and skin with all manner of things, but to turn red hair to the shade of black it was now he'd have had to soak it in ink, and it didn't seem unnatural nor did the man stink like a ledger. Still odder things in this world existed than a man who could have two different hair colors in his life.
"So, what brings you here?" Kote had long abandoned his show of cleaning and tidying up the tap room, indulging in his curiosity fully as their eyes met once more.
"I'm here for you. What else would anyone come here for?" He quickly raised his hands in a calming gesture. "I'm not here for the bounty on your head, or to hear your story, or ask to be your student." Kote said nothing, committing to nothing the stranger said. "I know quite a lot about you already. I just came to tell you, to remind you that endings aren't endings. Every ending is just the beginning to another, or another part of the story, and sad endings make what comes after all the sweeter. Change is coming again Kvothe, embrace it, bend with it and you'll come out better than the last time." A broad smile crossed the lips of the strange, well dressed and well informed man before he bowed slightly, turned on his heel and headed for the door. Kvothe thought to call after him, to ask him questions but instead he leaned against his bar and watched the smoke rings the stranger left in his wake lose their shape and vanish into the air. As the stranger left the Inn settled once more into silence.