The quiet air enveloping the inn, barring rowdy laughter coming from the table having a jolly good time of it (the ale certainly playing a large part in that), was a luxury only given in rural towns such as this one. And nowhere was silence more welcomed than in the eyes of the Sisters.

A figure, obscured by shadows in the far corner of the inn, sat idly by; catching glimpses here and there of the activities undertaken by the patrons and workers, and flashing a bemused smile whenever she caught them looking back at her. She had forgotten how peaceful everything could be when whispers were absent and she could simply enjoy a lifestyle the likes of which was essentially impossible if you dealt in shady business practices. It’s that quiet moment when the grains were harvested and new seeds sown for the next, and the woman savoured the time.

Until her services were needed once more…

Entertainment came in many forms, but none were quite so amusing as the looks the young barmaid had given when Bellemere simply mimed wanting a drink. The question that came after, and it always came after, was answered differently depending on the woman’s mood. Sometimes a witch had cursed her with the voice of a toad and therefore she dare not speak, other times her mother had cut out the filth from her mouth. But typically she just left a note saying: “Forgive me, but the Gods were unkind and refused me a voice.”

Today it had earned her a heartfelt apology from the young girl, and a free drink and meal on the house which Bellemere accepted graciously as she always did.

With little else to occupy her time, Bellemere brandished a folded map and a piece of paper. The latter she hastily scribbled on and shoved towards the opposite end of her table, held in place by the now empty mug, before unfolding the map of Oarth and marking several locations and areas as though the woman had been planning a trip around the world.

The note that lay on the table firmly told anyone who’d read it: “Urgent business only.” double underlined.

Hilda was all too happy to take up a seat besides her new acquaintance, flashing the mute woman a friendly smile. She took a swig from her ale, noticing that the handwriting on the note was clearer and more eloquent than she had been expecting. Perhaps this mute was more than just a simple peasant girl who happened to be unlucky with her lot in life?

“I, ah, I suppose I should introduce myself,” said the swordswoman after a minute or so of amicable silence. “The name's Hilda. Yours?”

The Silent Sister leaned nearer, deftly using the remaining area on the note to scribble down a single name. “Bellemere.” Hilda nodded in acknowledgement. Quite a nice name.

Bellemere paused for a moment, contemplating the thought of grabbing another piece of paper (which she had been running out of as well), but opted instead to mime a quick question. A finger pointed from Hilda to herself, then to her lips. As if asking the swordswoman whether she knew any less tedious ways to talk.

Hilda took a moment to work out what Bellemere was asking of her, before giving a hesitant nod. “I did learn a few hand signals back when I served with the local garrison back home. But I doubt that would help us much here, unless we’re planning to storm some battlements any time soon.” She gave a half-hearted chuckle at her own joke, a tinge of disappointment in herself. But then she brightened up a little as an idea came to mind.

“Ah, but… well, this may be asking too much of you, but if you’ve the time and the patience, perhaps you could teach me a few signs? I’m a good learner, and perhaps it may come in useful in the future. Who can say?”

A bemused smile faded into a frown, and Bellemere had given a moment's pause to find a couple gestures that were a bit more obvious in practice. She had half a heart to shake her head, but after some digging the woman nodded to herself and took the previously written note. Being careful to make sure Hilda paid attention.

A finger pointed at ‘forgive’, while the other hand made the gestures as slowly as Bellemere could manage; hand squeezed to a fist and moving in a clockwise motion over her chest.

Next she flipped the note and, with a half-closed fist, waved thrice in quick succession before pointing at ‘urgent’.

Years of being taught the language hadn’t given way to explaining it to other people, but Bellemere figured giving a couple examples might at least sate the stranger’s curiosity if nothing else. And by mouthing the words while making the necessary motions, the sister was able to make another person wise in her own language.

While Hilda stumbled a little at first in picking up the basics, like the proper positioning of her hands, she was able to get the gestures consistently right after a couple of tries. It was not unlike the art of a spellcaster waving their hands as part of an incantation. For the warrior, there was a small thrill to be had in trying and learning new things. It was something interesting to jot down in her journal, for one thing.

Bellemere was just about to point out another word to teach Hilda when a red-bearded dwarf in a deeper-hued cloak passed by their table and briefly stopped…

“Hmm? Can we help- Oh…”

…before carrying on after a simple glance in their direction. Hilda watched him go, towards a table where a hooded elf was seated at, before turning back to Bellemere.

“That was… odd. Not someone here for you with ‘urgent business’, I take it?”

Bellemere feigned ignorance by offering a shrug, she certainly wasn't expecting to meet anyone here. However, that symbol beaming from the dwarven forehead struck her like a blow to the head. It was unmistakably the symbol of the inquisitors.

Surprise turned to intrigue, and the sister felt the urge to eavesdrop. She'd noted the empty mugs of Hilda and herself, and by quick admission to the swordswoman that this chat was going to last a bit longer than the typical five minute pitch, Bellemere grabbed the mugs. And in a pretend-detour that took her deliberately within hearing range of the whispering elf and dwarf, ears pricked up to catch fragments of what their secrets entailed.

Bellemere did so again, taking the same deliberate route back from the bar to Hilda (This time happy to pay the expenses for two ales) and trying to decipher what it is that brought this elf and inquisitor together. Unfortunately, the growing crowd did little to help in this endeavour. But to inch closer was a risk the sister wasn't willing to take.

She slid a mug over towards her companion, urging her to resume their little lesson while keeping a tentative eye towards the dwarf. Hilda agreed to play along, while straining her ears to try and make out anything those two were saying, likely to little effect.