As they navigated the winding alleys, Lyra led Arthur to a small, unassuming tavern tucked away in a forgotten corner of the city. The sign above the door creaked in the gentle breeze, bearing the image of a crescent moon.
"This is the Moonlit Tavern," Lyra said, her voice low. "It's a place where information can be... acquired."
Arthur's eyes narrowed as they entered the tavern. The air was thick with smoke and the murmur of hushed conversations. Lyra led him to a corner table, where a hooded figure sat sipping a mug of ale.
"Wait here," Lyra said, her eyes locked on the figure. "I'll go and... negotiate."
Arthur watched as Lyra approached the hooded figure, their conversation lost in the din of the tavern. He sipped his own ale, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger.
As he waited, Arthur began to feel a creeping sense of unease. The patrons of the tavern seemed to be watching him, their eyes glinting with a mixture of curiosity and hostility.
Suddenly, Lyra returned, her expression grim. "We have a problem," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The traitor in the palace... it's someone close to the king."
Arthur's heart skipped a beat. Someone close to the king? It couldn't be true. But as he looked into Lyra's eyes, he knew that she was telling the truth.