Piper runs into a new acquaintance just outside, and an old one just inside.

The sore-legged songstress was a bit too achy to skip, but not too tired to sing. Still, the inn was conveniently close to the front gate of the town, and she could probably have found it from muscle memory even with her eyes closed. In fact, that was how she was merrily walking, swinging her arms and counting on her voice to act as a sort of horn to clear her path for her.

It was in that carefree condition that she suddenly felt herself collide with a metal barricade a foot in front of where the door to the familiar Hattler Inn ought to have been, which knocked her flat backwards and onto her butt. "Hares and horseradish, what in balmy blazes-!"

The songstress opened her swimming green eyes to witness an iron statue... No, it was a man in full metal armor, with his arms crossed in a foreboding gesture of stillness. The armor was so complete that even the upper half of his face was hidden by a visor. With a frown, he uncrossed his arms and stooped down to offer her a hand up.

Piper snubbed it and rose by herself, dusting herself off. In spite of that friendly gesture, it hadn't been a great first impression. "I confess I carried on with corneas covered, good man, but you can see out of that tin bucket about your noggin, nay? Wouldst thou be so gentle as to gentlemanly get aside, that I might enter? Or... ah, bother, you're a bouncer, are you, my big be-armored buddy?" This was a problem... She had no idea why there would be a bouncer in front of Mr. Hattler's inn, but if some fee was required to enter, she'd be sleeping on the streets!

"Who, me? Nah," the man responded. Piper had been expecting the growl of some gruff veteran, but this guy sounded like a bored nine-to-fiver, probably in his late twenties or early thirties. "I'm just a lookout."

"A lookout? And would you say you're doing a fine and fair job as just?" Piper said with a sarcastic smile, lowering her eyelashes. "Wait, more worrisomely: a watchman for what? And why?"

The man paused. "Uh... Are you here for the inn or the other thing? You look like you might be here for the other thing."

"I don't know one thing or another of this 'other thing!' I'm in for the inn." Piper raised an eyebrow curiously. "Wait, what of my lovely looks wouldst make me supposedly suited for that 'other thing?'"

The man paused again. "Uh... Never mind. Stupid... Geod, I'm dumb. Just forget it. I'm just... shit. Dammit. Real cool, Faul. So you don't know anything about the other thing, do you? You look like you're not from around here. Like, you've got that, uh, 'exotic' look."

"Oh my!" Piper teased, batting her eyelashes at the man and grinning. "I do take care to cultivate that."

"Dammit, Faul, what a hick fuckin' thing to say. You absolute dipshit. Uh-"

"Beg pardon, Faul?" Piper interrupted him, now with a slightly pitying smile. "You are aware your visor veils not a minute of your muttering nor a second of self-deprecatory speaking?"

Another long pause. "Yeah, of course. So, uh, if you're from out of town... You know about all the new stuff going on around Merridan? Like what the Church and Knights are up to? Are you, uh, thinking of getting up to-"

"Thinking of getting up to an upper floor and flat-laying upon feathery furniture? Indeed I am, sir,quick as I can catch the coin!" Piper didn't really know what the Knights had to do with anything, but she was sure they were pissed off about the Church's new initiative. Those two groups had never seen eye to eye. What, exactly, they were doing was anyone's guess, but it was a problem for the next morning. "I'll be certain to say to Mr. Hattler what a wizbang of a lookout he's fashioned, Faul. Ta-ta for tonight!"

"Shit, cause if you were, I mean- Shit. Good night." The man muttered and stepped out of the way, clasping his head in his hands. "Dammit, I shoulda joined the knights. Knew I shoulda. I'm never gonna get any action workin' odd jobs for this innkeep. What a dead-end fuckin' job."

Ignoring his muttering, Piper moved past him. Being such a short way away from her target was making her even drowsier. "Tis' the tip-top time to talk or trill for tips, but I bet I'll bleat but a beat and hurry to hit hay..."

After all the unfamiliar things she'd seen today, the relative peace and quiet of the inside of Hattler's inn was a sight for sore eyes, ears, feet, legs, and so on. It was so peaceful...

In fact, it was too peaceful. The small lobby was empty. She couldn't hear a single footstep inside. There wasn't even anyone at the desk to take orders. She supposed she could pull the old rope she used to mess with as a kid and set the bell ringing for service, instead of just ringing it for kicks for once... She had really wanted to get her room arrangements set up, but she supposed she'd have to work the "tavern" first.

She thought of it as a "tavern" because it was really more of a pet project of Mr. Hattler's. When she'd become old enough to really understand what it was, she was still too young to drink, and she'd left the town behind her before she'd really had a chance. It was little more than a small four-stool fenced-in open-air bar where Mr. Hattler served ale, nuts, and the occasional special-celebration tavern sandwich to close friends who were "in the know" about that little secret. At the tail end of her most recent stays in Merridan, which she confessed were quite a while ago, she had taken to playing for tips in that tavern. Soaking in the recognition, adulation, and pocket change of Mr. Hattler's close friends, she had taken to thinking of herself as Merridan's best-kept secret, along with the tavern itself. Of course, she'd changed a lot since then...

... And, now that she realized it, so had the tavern. While it was quiet enough to hear the a pin drop in the inn itself, behind the heavy door of the tavern, she swore she could hear a faint, rhythmic thrumming. That definitely wasn't normal. When she grabbed the door and opened it up...

A hall?! A short, enclosed indoor hall had been constructed, decorated with tapestries that couldn't look more out of place moving from the all-function no-form cherry wood of the inn proper. Most surprisingly, Mr. Hattler himself was sitting there. His round head had been turned towards the back door, but swiveled suddenly to face Piper when she entered, so quickly it might have shaken the glasses from his face. "Ho! Welcome! You're here for the competition, are you?"

Piper saw she wasn't recognized, which was no big surprise: after all, Eri had hardly recognized her earlier, and Eri had spent probably ninety percent of the time taking care of her as a kid while Mr. Hattler loomed taciturn in the background. But that last part was important. The husband of that duo had always been a stern, quiet figure, staying busy keeping things running and distinctly separate from kids by an impenetrable air of adult responsibility. So who was this broadly grinning, jolly and slightly plump gentleman looking like he wanted to shake her hand? His brown hair, round spectacles, and thick, hairy arms suggested he had to be the same guy... In fact, his tavern apron over a brown tunic and trousers were familiar to Piper too, now that she thought harder. He was balding on the head a bit, but that wasn't unusual. What was unusual was his huge, inviting grin and Santa-like plumpness.

Piper heard a dull thrum that she was at first certain must be an oncoming headache, but quickly realized was the sound of music coming from the next room over. She had so many questions, and she'd ask them all, but right now, one was the most important.