It is a quiet morning at the Wild Surge, with few customers in the common room at that time. Gel'larian makes his way amongst the kitchen staff, many whom know him from decades of patronage at the inn. Their relations are still cool though as the elf often keeps his business to himself, leaves and then is not seen for days, weeks, months or years. He patiently waits for the mill to be free, and once it is, takes a sack of corn to grind in to meal. He work patiently, studying the flow of grain as it funnels in to the mill, a quiet whistle escaping his lips. A small tab of white paper peeking out from behind the mill cathces his attention, and on a whim he fishes a note out from behind the mill. He casually unfolds it and scans it. As his expression becomes stone and he folds the note up, and puts it in a pocket. He finishes his grinding, goes to the press and produces a bottle of oil, make several batches of dough, and then bakes wonderful smelling bread. He leaves a loaf of rye bread for the inn, and then heads out to speak with Ragrian.
Ragrian? I was just wondering, do you know anyone by the name of Rupert?
