Zangua finds the shelves much as he did the last time he was here: lots of fishing and boating supplies, travel provisions, jars of fish sauce, bags of spent grain, and the like. Same shopkeeper as before, too: a bald man of about sixty with jowls like a tracking dog's. He nods at Zangua's entry and mutters something that was probably "good afternoon." If he recognizes him from before, he doesn't show it.
Mordred, meanwhile, searches the octagonal building. The young man with the cart stops his work to watch him. The building is simply made and very old, with visible repairs here and there. Lichen and moss creep up the sides. The entrance, a set of plain wooden double doors, faces the pond; behind the building is a large plot of land with a low fence full of plants and small fruit trees, a community garden from the looks of it. A gray goat stands with his head over the fence, chewing on the leaves of a sprawling shrub. Nearby, from one of the houses to the west, Mordred can hear the tink-tink of a metalworker at his trade.
On Mordred's second pass around the building the man with the cart touches his hat and says, "Hello, stranger." No sign of the crown can be seen on the building, as far as Mordred can tell.