The tavern was alive with the hum of conversation and the clinking of mugs, a welcome refuge from the cold outside. The scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread mingled with the acrid tang of ale, creating an atmosphere that was both warm and lively. Adventurers, mercenaries, and traders filled the room, each sharing their own stories of the road. For the first time since his escape, Chuuya felt a begrudging gratitude toward his parents. Their abrupt announcement of his betrothal had forced him out of his comfort zone, and he knew he wouldn’t have ventured this far from home if not for the threat of being tied to someone against his will. The stories being exchanged around him were intriguing, his mind wandering as he imagined what it would be like to live the lives these people led—free, untethered, and full of adventure. Chuuya was eager to lose himself in the lively conversations, though he had no intention of joining in. Blending into the background was vital—he couldn’t afford to let anyone know he was the Runaway Crown Prince of Suribachi. Whether the word had reached this far-flung kingdom, he didn’t know, and he wasn’t about to risk finding out. He sighed, rolling a quill between his fingers. He had no clear idea of where he was beyond the name of the kingdom and the bits of information he had gleaned from his political studies. His journey here had been haphazard at best—he had boarded the first ship that seemed safe enough, paid the crew generously, and disembarked at the first harbor they stopped at with only a satchel full of currency, jewels, essentials and a few prized possessions. Chuuya sat at an isolated table, a carefully chosen spot that allowed him to listen in on nearby conversations without drawing attention to himself. He hadn’t touched the mug of ale in front of him, keeping his senses sharp. A blank scroll lay open on the table, He had hoped to maybe sketch out a plan for what to do next, but his mind kept drifting thanks to unfamiliar surroundings and voices.