"Claus," the innkeeper harumphs, "That young woman, always filling their head with her stories."
"C'mon pa, don't be so hard on her," a young man turns from his mug of ale, "She's a good teacher and she loves the children. She's just trying to help."
"Loves the children, does she? Bah, a girl like that should be married and mothering them herself if she wants 'em, I say. Anyway, besides she's an alchemist. I heard our last alchemist had his own way to 'love the children'."
"Pa, don't say that. It's ghosts this time, it is. Maybe the spirit of old Majihal seeking revenge on this place after he died unfulfilled."
"Bah, she ain't normal, that's all. What normal person would spend time in that place?"
"Where else was she gonna learn alchemy pa?"
"Francis, I want you staying away from that girl, understand?"
"I know, pa...but you didn't seem to mind when she was leading us to set off fireworks or dig traps or hunts."
"That was children's games and the wild imagination of youth. Girls change when they become women, lad. They become different people. Your mother...but we'll speak of this another time. Travelers, if you're staying with that woman and you don't want an ale, then I see no reason for you to linger here, yes?"
