Before Layla could respond, the innkeeper entered the room from the kitchen, his apron slightly askew and his forehead glistening with sweat. His usual genial demeanor was replaced with something more strained. As he walked past their table, he hesitated for the briefest of moments, his eyes flickering toward Layla before he quickly moved on, not saying a word.

"That's new," Mary Ann muttered, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"What's new?" Layla asked, her tone casual despite her growing curiosity.

Mary Ann gestured subtly. "Innkeepers don't usually avoid their guests, especially not ones they've given their best rooms to."

Raziel scoffed. "Seems like he regrets that decision."

Layla gave him a sidelong glance. "Or he's trying to avoid drawing attention to us. Which means he knows something we don't."

The tension only grew as the morning stretched on. More patrons filtered into the common room, but they too seemed uneasy, casting wary glances toward the door or whispering amongst themselves. Some left without finishing their meals, muttering excuses to the innkeeper as they shuffled out into the streets.

By the time Layla and her companions finished their breakfast, the room was nearly empty save for a few stubborn holdouts and the innkeeper himself, who busied himself cleaning an already spotless counter.

"We're being watched," Raziel muttered under his breath, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.

"Not just watched," Layla corrected, her voice low. "We're being... anticipated."

Mary Ann raised an eyebrow. "Anticipated? By whom?"

Layla met her gaze, her expression unreadable. "That's what we need to find out."

As they rose from their table, the few remaining patrons quickly turned away, pretending to focus on their meals or conversations. Layla ignored them, her mind already working through possible explanations for the strange atmosphere.

Whatever was happening in this town, it wasn't just about them. But they were undeniably part of it.

The comforting clink of plates and cutlery against the table was abruptly drowned out by a loud crash, followed by the sharp splintering of wood. The inn's front door flew open, slamming against the wall with enough force to rattle the windows. The sudden noise startled everyone in the room, drawing all eyes to the doorway.

Standing there, framed by the morning light, was the guard from the night before. His armor was disheveled, and his expression was one of smug triumph mixed with simmering resentment. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword, but his posture suggested he was more interested in theatrics than an immediate fight.

The innkeeper froze mid-step, his eyes wide with shock. A mug he had been carrying slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor. The remaining patrons cowered, whispering nervously among themselves or shrinking into their seats.

Layla, Raziel, and Mary Ann remained seated, their movements slow and deliberate as they set their utensils down.

"Looks like our friend couldn't stay away," Raziel muttered under his breath, his hand subtly brushing against his sword hilt.

"Calm down," Layla said quietly, her tone measured. "Let's see what he wants."

The guard stepped inside, his heavy boots echoing on the wooden floor. He surveyed the room with a predator's satisfaction, his gaze lingering on the cowering patrons before finally locking onto Layla. His smirk widened as he started toward her table, each step deliberate and weighted with authority.

"Well, well," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "I thought I'd find you here."

Layla leaned back in her chair, her expression neutral but her eyes sharp and assessing. "Good morning," she said coolly. "Something I can help you with?"

He chuckled darkly, pulling a rolled parchment from his belt and unfurling it with a dramatic flourish. "Help me? Oh no, my dear. This is about helping the law." He slapped the parchment down onto the table in front of her.

Raziel and Mary Ann both leaned forward to read it. The document was stamped with an official-looking seal and bore Layla's name, along with a bold accusation: Suspected Conspirator and Disturber of the Peace. Detain for Interrogation.

Layla glanced at the warrant, her expression unchanging. "Is this supposed to intimidate me?"

The guard's smirk faltered for a split second before returning, sharper this time. "This isn't a request. You're coming with me, lady. Whether you cooperate or not is up to you."

Mary Ann's fists tightened under the table, and Raziel's hand inched closer to his sword. Layla, however, remained calm, picking up her tea as though the entire exchange were a minor inconvenience.

"I see," she said, taking a measured sip. "And what, exactly, am I being detained for?"

"Disturbing the peace," the guard snapped, clearly annoyed by her nonchalance. "And for resisting authority—last night, to be precise."

Layla raised an eyebrow. "Resisting? I seem to recall you were the one breaking into my room without a warrant. I'm sure your superiors would love to hear about that."

The guard's face reddened, his smirk twisting into a scowl. "Enough talk. Stand up, now."

The room seemed to hold its breath as the tension between the two escalated. The innkeeper edged behind the counter, his hands shaking as he pretended to clean. The remaining patrons, wide-eyed and pale, watched in nervous silence, too afraid to intervene.

Raziel's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "You're making a mistake."

The guard turned his glare to Raziel. "Oh, I see. The hired muscle has an opinion. Careful, or I'll add you to the warrant too."

Raziel's eyes darkened, his fingers drumming ominously on the table. Mary Ann, sensing the rising danger, placed a hand on his arm to hold him back.

Layla finally stood, smoothing out her cloak. She stared the guard down, her gaze unwavering. "If you think you can intimidate me into compliance, you're sorely mistaken. I won't be going anywhere without a valid reason."

Her calm defiance seemed to unnerve him, but he quickly masked it with bravado. "Then I'll make you."

He reached for her arm, but before he could make contact, Raziel was on his feet, his hand gripping the guard's wrist in a vice-like hold. The guard winced, his bravado cracking under Raziel's steely glare.

"I'd reconsider that move," Raziel said, his voice low and dangerous.

The tension in the room reached a boiling point, and it was unclear who would make the next move.