Nothing would have been more pleasing than to wring the neck of the man who had given her advice. Realistically, she had no way of knowing that Warren would have been so far out of her way. Especially not from where she had been north of the capital. Rowen had been unable to afford a map, having left home with hardly enough to eat with. A lot of her money had come from failed plunder, and that she had been saving up to get help with.
After spending two weeks travelling she was finally in the rather meek but fortified Warren. The underground highway had been a straight shot through, and she had even been able to ride with a group of supply merchant after walking half way. There had been no real conversation, and despite her gratitude she had kept to herself. The tunnel itself was well constructed, relying on a natural cavern that ran under Grimlaw that the dwarves had used to their advantage while excavating and creating the highway. Large stone arches with intricate stonework supported the ceiling that disappeared into dark obscurity at some points. There was nothing like the handiwork of the dwarves. Even the castles of Brevyon were mere shacks compared to all that she had seen since her return to her homeland, a thought that still felt foreign to her.
Parting ways with the merchants at the end of the tunnel she was greeted with rain. In the tunnel it would have been impossible to tell what time it was had their not been elaborate clocks. She had expected it to be a lot lighter out when she left, but the downpour and darkened sky had dimmed the daylight. The lights of the town were welcoming through the gloom though, and after inquiring to one of the guards who was standing watch at the mouth of the tunnel she was told there was an inn where she would be able to get a place to stay just up the road a bit.
Around her, other travelers were making their way through the street, heading beyond Warren. Others were finding their buyers, or, like her, heading to the inn. It was not a hard place to find, being one of the biggest buildings in the whole town. This only made sense because they had to accommodate all the people travelling through. As she grew closer she could hear the boisterous people inside, many of whom just seemed like they were getting out of the rain for a drink. There was a large porch that stretched across the entire front of the inn, a lot of people loitering around under the cover and chatting.
It was so strange to see everyone so at ease with one another. Strangers and friends alike. Heading inside the warmth of a fire and from all the people hanging around inside began to ease the chill that being underground then in the rain had brought on.
Every day that passed only strengthened her need to find serious help in searching for her missing sister. That is what led her to Warren. The reputation of a certain man had gotten around, and from what she had heard there was no better person to track down the people who took her sister. That is, if she could find him first. Last that she was able to piece together was that he was off towards Warren, which was still no guarantee that she would find him there.
There wasn't much to go on though, so there she was.
Getting a room for a day to start out with, she ended up in a corner room upstairs. The noise from down below her was muffled, even more so when she thanked one of the innkeepers and discarded her things onto the floor. When she looked up her reflection in the small vanity mirror caught her attention. There were dark circles under her eyes that seemed almost a permanent feature as of the recent months. Her usually short cropped hair had grown out a bit, which she would need to take care of before it became the awkward length where it was too short to do much with, but too long to keep from her face. It was still damp from the rain, so she pushed it to the side.
There was no real reason for her to facade that she was a boy anymore. There were no repercussions of it, and in Aigeovarth it wouldn't make a difference. She was beginning to grow from the habit, but she didn't correct anyone if they were mistaken. Rowen also chose to go by Sloan. For years the only person to call her that was her sister. So she chose to keep only one part of her disguise. Things were far less personal that way, and that made everything easier.
Back downstairs she went for a drink, hoping to figure out where her tracker was if she could.
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