"Single rooms!" Geralt had stepped forward furiously. "If possible ..." he smoothed his harsh tone a bit at the sight of Fenneka's brows shooting skyward.
"As you wish." Still smiling, she handed them the keys and nodded at the stairs. "Get your baggage up and refresh yourself. Cold water and fresh towels are on your rooms. The necessary is in the backyard. Please don't pour the chamber pot out the window! Do you wish a hot bath?"
"Oh!" Jaskier beamed. "Sounds good."
About an hour later, the two friends (which of course, according to Geralt, were no friends!)were in the seating area of The Fabulating Fox and restarted their irritated-looking-around.
"I feel like in a library." While glancing around, Jaskier leaned whispering to Geralt.
"Hm." Geralt hummed affirmatively.
He as well had never seen so many books and scrolls in a tavern, not speaking about them being well ordered in shelfs at the walls.
Fenneka brought their food and drinks.
"I see your glances. You're wondering," she stated smiling.
"What are these books doing here?" Jaskier blurted out.
Fenneka laughed. "I collect stories and I fabulate. You, master Jaskier, tell stories in your songs. You, master Geralt, you tell stories with your swords. Let's contract, then. I offer you board and lodge for free; in return I want your stories."
The shining Jaskier gave Geralt the feeling to be trapped.
Fenneka went on explaining. "I take stories, legends, myths, songs and anecdotes from different sources and interweave them with love and my own phantasy to ... something new. I am seeking for truth to honor the sources because the adventures and thoughts of others shall be appreciated. But sometimes, also a respectful mixing can touch the soul. You know: the mere truth doen't make history."