Going somewhere

And you rode.

You rode until nightfall. You crossed the snowfields until you reached a plain where, near a side road, a solitary inn stood. From inside came a warm orange light and the smell of beer spread all around.

You were worried about disguising, and John said:

“Let's say we're looking for fugitives. We'll play the roles of our hunters, and we'll do just fine.”

The owner of the inn, in addition to believing in this story, also offered a free meal and bed to the noble brothers in black. You sat around the table, and while you were eating pieces of roasted mutton, the innkeeper approached you and informed:

“Sorry, gentlemen, but it was not possible to arrange a private room. But, well, I can offer you a night in our biggest room. Problem is, he's already booked for… uh… a group of five.”

“Won't we bother?” you asked.

"No, of course not. They are in a small village near here, making their presentations. Artists. I don't think they'll be back in two days. They won't even notice. I'm just warning you because you might be surprised by the belongings scattered around the room.”

"It's all right. Thank you very much, sir,” Jimmy replied, munching on a piece of mutton.