“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over and above to where I sat. “Repute’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared aside settlers about multitudinous a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden tun apart from us, and I returned his indication with a nod. He filled a glass and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the court in the vanguard continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be willing to wager a fair portion of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach for the purpose more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the bend slung across my back.