Been a few days since anything much happened in Gilba Gilba. That’s an Outland village for you. Assol had its times, fast and slow. As Autumn was gettin’ on and the Storms gettin’ worse, lives slowed down a wee mite. So slow that sometimes whole days passed without a single happenin’!

That’s how it goes. Scene 55 wrapped up and to be honest on all things I can’t even remember what it was about. That’s just Assol for you. Memory comes and goes.

As Winter Itself approached like a march of white, Blom hunkered hisself in for another afternoon at the Ragged Maiden. Guests weren’t too frequent with the rain blowin’ about. That fella from the Crown was still pokin’ his face in and out.

“You from the Crown, aye?” Blom asked casually. Wouldn’t hurt to fire up some CONVERSATION in this common room. The fella looked like he was from the Crown, for certain: colors and fashion and even the accent all lined up right.

“Aye, but I can’t be sure I enjoy startin’ a talk this way,” the fella answered. “Anyone who puts his hometown front ’n foremost has got two motives, way I figure.”

“That so, huh?” Blom said, playing along. He knew the game. HE KNEW HOW TO PLAY. “Name ‘em, those motives, if you would do so.”

The fella ticked off his fingers. “Either someone’s aimin’ to paint me as a suspicious outsider or give me undue attention so someone else can paint me as a suspicious outsider.”

Blom did not answer and instead just looked at the fella, forcing him to continue.

“Which is it then, innkeep? Think I’m not wily to your ways?”

“Mayhap your instincts are too sharp for the likes of an Outland village, friend,” Blom said. “Reducin’ all strangers to a bit o’ calculatin’ shorpers is bound to paint a picture incomplete.”

“Mayhap,” the fella conceded, “but on the other dracoin, mayhap it serves me well to know the aims of the folk responsible for housin’ me in a foreign land.”

“Wouldn’t call the Outlands a foreign land,” replied Blom, “less you do indeed view us as a buncha others.”

“Mmm.”

“Need yourself an ale or cider or baked fried cooked bit o’ apple pieces?” offered Blom with the hospitality of a man who had it to offer.

“Aye, and thank you rightly,” said the fella graciously. “And indeed I hail from the Crown as you right suspected the moment I pushed meself through your doors.”

“And what if I may ask is your purpose in Gilba Gilba?”

“Don’t recall readin’ any law or edict requirin’ me to furnish my time and attention to an innkeep, less the Mayoral Commission out here has revised its policies of late?”

“The Outlands, and Gilba Gilba, and the Ragged Maiden, and I in most particular like to get a flavor of the guests if I can.” Blom was enjoying THIS BANTER.

“Aye, and mayhap I’m the one in need of revisin’?”

Blom dipped his head in a slight fashion. “Mayhap.”