Chapter 97 - Clear Interest...?

Meredith pushed open the heavy oaken door of the tavern, the familiar creak blending into the raucous symphony of laughter, clinking mugs, and the strum of a lute from the corner Bard. The tavern was a hive of activity, as ever, its low-beamed ceiling alive with the flicker of oil lamps that cast warm, golden pools across scarred wooden tables crowded with patrons from every walk of Eldridge's teeming life. Merchants in fine velvets rubbed shoulders with off-duty guards in dented leather, while a gaggle of apprentices huddled over steaming bowls of stew, their faces flushed from the day's labors. The air was thick with the hearty aroma of roasted mutton, fresh-baked bread, and the sharp tang of spilled ale, undercut by the faint, herbal whisper of pipe smoke curling from a few grizzled elders in the shadows. It was a place where the city's pulse beat strongest, unfiltered and unrelenting, a stark contrast to the solemn halls of the Order of Paladins that Meredith was used to.