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Inner Bay, Storm Inn.
The inn in the Harbor District had a long history. Rumor had it that its first owner had bought the land toward the end of the Holy Age and built an inn with just seven guest rooms.
After more than two hundred years of steady growth, the Storm Inn had become a large establishment with forty private rooms, five communal rooms, three additional courtyards, and twelve stables. It also had its own signature dish: the Storm Feast.
According to rumor, the original owner had invented the dish while rescuing people during a storm.
Others said the people he had rescued had invented it to thank him.
Naturally, many people guessed that the Storm Inn had gotten its name from that incident too.
Carral, however, knew it was all false.
The rescue, the gratitude-all of it was false.
The so-called Storm Feast had originally been called the Eye of the Storm.
Carral thought the name was rather fitting for a bunch of fish in a pie, their heads raised high and their dead eyes staring.
But the Storm Feast?
Please!
It wasn't as though a bunch of radishes were holding a meeting. A dozen dead fish staring at him was creepy enough. If there were hundreds, Carral reckoned he would draw his sword and cut down the chef.
"I have news!"
Jimte walked into the suite.
Carral looked up from stroking his twin swords.
Hayes, who had been lying in Manta's arms eating grapes, paused too.
"The Storm Inn is called the Storm Inn because the first owner's fishing rod was named Storm. Supposedly, whenever anyone used it, stormy weather would strike, leaving them without a single catch every time."
Jimte shared what he had learned.
Click!
Carral's longsword slid slightly out of its sheath.
Hayes