"Gah, I'm overthinking this." started Keystone, shaking his head. "Paranoid, I suppose. Yeah, Saran, I'm hopin' to find something. Much as I'm not the shiny-armored horse riding type, I'm still on a quest."

Keystone chuckled quietly, repeating himself, "I'm still on a quest. Isn't that something? The boys back home'd have a right brilliant laugh at that one. But back to it: I need answers. That's what I'm looking for. The only place I know of that might have something written down about all this is where my part of the story began. Long as I'm there, I intend to salvage what I can from the hideouts of the two dead mages."

A moment of thought on his last statement brought about a correction, "One dead, one turned to stone." 

With thought to abbreviating his list, Keystone continued, "I was hoping on traveling in safety - numbers of a caravan, y'see. Having a cart to load up with salvage was another part of the plan. I'm supposing we can get one when we're at Two Stars, though. Now, the thought on acting the part of a merchant: In case this is all a waste of time, we've turned a lil gold the ordinary way. It's overly thought. I'd be willing to go with Saran's idea."

"Armor, horses, guard jobs and/or hard ride east. Still profit to be made, if there were answers they'll still be there. Cart if needed on the way back." 

The quick and quiet exchange from Rocksteady earned him a quizzical look from the errant pugilist, followed by a slow (if puzzled) nod of affirmation. "We'll set on new business after, eh? But yeah, I've got ideas what starts with that." 

Keystone rose from the table, intent on giving an assist with the cleanup. He strode into the kitchen and began working on what remained of the larger wares from his marathon scullery run earlier that day. It was a thing to marvel over, the mundane task of preparing meals and cleaning house. A pause. A breath of cool air before thrusting himself back into the thick of a situation that he didn't start, but felt honorbound to continue. Scrub, clean, share awkward glances across a countertop in need of sanding and oiling. He'd certainly done less meaningful things with his time. 

A few quiet moments later, Keystone ventured to speak. "If you'd be able, tomorrow, after your leather-man sees to my inseams and whatnot, I need to pay respects to my friend tomorrow. Would be obliged if you could show the way."

Keystone's face took on a darker expression. Quickly, he changed the subject, hoping to draw the darker thoughts away from his mind and focus himself to the task ahead. "Your skin-monger, he does custom work? I've a thought or two on features..."