Wrapping a cloth around his face, Kalabnalu grimly thought to himself, "I need to make sure that in case any of those pesky Dunedain are inside, they don't recognize my Numenorean blood."
Pulling a hood over his black hair, the man stood up from the set of Arnor ruins and walked towards the door. Passing under the archway and stepping in, he looked around the humble entryway. The walls were stone and the floor was wood. Plants hung from the ceiling and in planters. Shrugging, he stood by the door and looked around. He saw a cloak rack and reached back to pull his off before he heard the sound of sweeping beyond the coat room. He walked to the doorway and saw a blonde woman dressed in a white and blue dress, sweeping the floor of a grand mess hall. She looked up, and Kalabnalu could have sworn she looked to have the same complexion as the Nurnhoth slaves back home. He walked in, speaking through the bandage on his face, "Hello, innkeeper."
The woman leaned the broom against the table, looking up, "Yes, how can I help you today, sir?"
Kalabnalu could have sworn something was familiar about this girl, and it perplexed him. "I will be purchasing a room, girl. I need it for only one night. If you need credentials or something, I am Kallan."
The woman nodded, turning to walk towards the counter, "Of course. I will have your key in a second."
"Kallan" looked around the little inn. "How quant. Well, it is better than the barracks."
Then the woman came back from the kitchen. As she approached him, the man was swept into memory. He saw a jet black haired woman, deathly pale like the slaves yet carrying the air and appearance of his own kind. She wore black and crimson robes as she stood before him, demanding, "How dare you talk back to the Heir of Aglarzor, you filth!"
Kalabnalu stood, his knife pulled and ready for a fight, "Me, filth? You are the slave posing as one of us, Nurnhoth-"
She lunged forward, pulling out her sword. As they fought, he was confident enough in his skills, yet wary of his luck. Soon enough, the fight ended - when she drove her blade into his eye.
He gasped, falling to the ground holding his bleeding eye. Standing over him, the woman spit at him, "I am Aglarari, the Heir of the House of Aglarzor! You will respect me, spy!"
A key was placed in his hand.
The man looked down, eying the key in his hand. Looking up, the woman had already turned to walk away, but was calling back. "I you need anything, call for Eira!"
"Eira?" Kallan nodded. He reached up and placed his hand on the missing eye she had stolen from him. He knew what his first target was. If Aglarzor's daughter lived, and under a new identity? What did it mean? He needed to message his leaders in Mordor. Turning for the door, he spoke, "I will return in due time, Eira. I believe I left something behind at an old cabin across the orchard here."
Sticking the key in his pocket, he growled beneath his bandage. He needed to contact Master Aglarzor with one of his crebain and make sure this was not Aglarari under some cover mission. If she truly had abandoned Mordor, she would pay not only for that, but for Kalabnalu's eye…
