You leave the tower, making your way to a local tavern, the Trickster's Head.
Inside, you are surprised to see an actual skull with a jester's cap hanging on a wall. Upon closer examination you realize it is but a wooden replica, albeit well-made.
You spend a few gold pieces buying drinks and socialising with the locals. A few drinks later you've made some new friends. You steer the topic away from the who-slept-with-whose-wife gossip, and towards the ruler of the city.
"Ruler? Oh. You mean the king, right?" said Bert the tailor, nursing his drink. "Tall man. Thirty-ish. Looks more like a librarian than a king, if you ask me. Popular with the ladies, though."
"Hah, yes, I'd be popular with the ladies too if I were king." Said Saon the carpenter, to the jeering of the others. "He's an alright sort, I suppose. Taxes have gone up lately, but it's only to be expected, with the war and all. Better than the last one, anyway."
"They're all so full of themselves." Said a third man, whose name you do not remember. "Royalty, I mean. Wass they do, anyway? Jus goin' around waving their hands at us, that's what. Anyone could do that. What's the king done for us lately, eh?"
"Oh, quit yer grumblin'. At least it's all quiet now at the top. Remember what it was like fifteen years ago, when they were all fightin' to be king? All those perfectly good 'eads, offed right in front o' the Big Square? Remember how they would fight each other and the Uglies would sneak in 'cause no-one's watching?" Said Saon.
"Live and let live, I say. I've got no complaints long as he does whatever it is that kings do an' don't get in the way of us honest folks makin' a living."
There is a general murmur of agreement.
One of the men is wearing the same uniform as the guards you saw earlier. You ask him if there are troubles in the city.
"Troubles, eh? Lessee... well, the Uglies are acting up lately, aren't they? Can't remember it bein' this bad for ages. Times were that us guards could go for months without seein' a one, but now they're turning up almost every day. Good thing they're weaker out here. If we fought them deep inside the forest they'd wipe the floor with us."
"Them wizardin' sorts at the Guild are saying it's cos of all the people bein' killed in war, it's destablisin' the magical thingamabob. The church says it's the Perfect gettin' angry at the Wyrmslayer. Didn't say why His Lordship would be takin' it out on us folks, though."
Another patron cuts in. "I heard the Emperor's asked our king for soldiers. You think there's gonna be a draft?"
"Nah. What's the point of drafting the likes of youse, anyway? Common folks won't last three seconds 'gainst the monsters the Adversary's putting up. I did hear - and don't any of ya say you heard it from me, right? I did hear that those at the top are thinkin' about waking the Kights of the Frost. How about that? That's something, innit?"
"What? You never heard of the Kights of the Frost? Eh. Long story. Remind me to tell you another day. Just know that they're top fighters. Any one of them can kill ten uglies with both hands tied behind his back. They've been sleepin' for hundreds of years, now, but the king knows how ta wake them. It's a royal secret, see? Naramyr won't know what hit him."
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