“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Name’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if word of his exploits were shared aside settlers about many a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned hogshead 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 bench before continuing.
“As a betting fellow, I’d be assenting to wager a adequate speck of coin you’re in Ebonscale Reach on the side of more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the capitulate slung across my back.