Traveler The Night Before

Bartido Ballentyne was used to travel. Being a diplomat that spent most of his time in ambassador-related duties, he spent very little time in Albion, his own country, and quite a bit of time moving between others. Of those, he was probably the fondest of the country he on his way out of. Even if it had required the most time to get them to trust him after that little spying incident. Bartido often hoped to see Hiram, but the prince still spent most of his time at the Silver Star Tower. Seeing Lillet around the palace from time to time nearly made up for it, though.

There was something to be said for going home, even from his favorite of foreign courts. Opportunities to see friends and family abounded, and often he could get the time to see them before he was off on his next adventure. In addition, he could sometimes actually work in a fully-functional alchemy lab without borrowing someone else's space. And this often was worth all of the travelling that was involved.

But it never did quite feel worth it at the end of a day that had been spent entirely in a cart on the dusty country roads.

Bartido knocked on the flap to the driver's perch. "How long 'til Sallah?" he asked. The man he was sitting across from sighed.

"We're pulling in now, sir," was the answer given.

"Excellent," Bartido said. He couldn't wait to get out of the carriage and stretch his legs.

"I imagine that you'll want to rest a day as per usual?" the man sitting across from him asked.

"Of course. I can't pass through Sallah without saying hello to my dear cousin," Bartido replied with what he considered his trademark lopsided smirk.

His body man sighed. "I don't know what to do with you, sir."

"What you always do, Sal," Bartido said, smirk never wavering. "Sigh constantly but deal with it competently and expertly."

Sal Sazerac did in fact sigh again, though his sighs were shallow and not very loud. "Of course, sir," he said in his long-suffering tone.

"Seriously Sal, it's time for him to come home. I'm tired of having to tell his mother that he's still out here."

"A woman after my own heart," Sal said. "Good luck then, sir."

Peeking out of the curtains that covered the windows, Bartido could see buildings starting to appear as the team trotted into the familiar crossroad town. The southern road lead to a country that Bartido didn't spend a lot of time, but had visited in an official capacity just a few years previously. But only the once. Most of the time in Sallah was moving between his own capital with his favorite one. So he had done this particular trip often enough that he could feel when they were slowing down and stood up to get out of the carriage before the driver had brought the team to a stop. Sal did the same, and always somehow moved fast enough to be first to the door of the inn, and even have it open soon enough that Bartido never had to break stride.

The innkeeper looked up at the grand entrance — if Bartido did say so himself — and smiled when he saw who had just entered his establishment. "Well, if it isn't Mr. Ballentyne," the innkeeper said in his most jolly voice. "Shall I prepare your usual room, then?"

"If you have it available, I'll be happy to take it," Bartido said, smirk on full blast. "I could also use a nice bath."

"I'll have the bath drawn up immediately, and your room just the way you prefer it shortly afterward," the innkeeper said, and then he hurried off to make his claims a reality.

Bartido picked one of the tables where a few patrons were eating their dinners. He would partake of the same once he had been cleaned of course. For the moment he just entertained himself by people watching.

There was a sickeningly sweet couple at one of the tables, who Bartido quickly decided was probably not worth his time watching. There was a trio of men at another table talking about various every day things. They might be amusing, but they'd also probably be gone by the time he was done with his bath as they all only had mugs in front of them and they had clearly been nursing them for quite a while. There was also — Oh, this was promising.

While not at a table, a young woman at least close to his own age descended the stairs, and clearly had a destination in mind. While her face was mostly unremarkable, it was the gait that seemed to tickle something in Bartido's memory. A combination of a weird nostalgia and the usual attraction to any healthy young woman had Bartido's attention until she had left the inn altogether, the door shutting behind her with a final thump. Bartido even stared at the door for a good five seconds after it had shut behind the young woman before he looked back at his options for people watching and found them all wanting after that enticing display. Weirdly, he wondered what Hiram would have thought of the woman.

It was for the best that the innkeeper came to tell him that his bath was ready then. He might have lost that trademark smirk, and that just wouldn't do for such a promising stay in Sallah.