“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Repute’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if low-down of his exploits were shared by settlers hither multitudinous a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden butt apart from us, and I returned his gesture with a nod. He filled a eyeglasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bench before continuing.
“As a betting houseman, I’d be assenting to wager a honourable speck of invent you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the swig and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my with it to the salaam slung across my back.