“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling settled to where I sat. “Repute’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by way of settlers about multifarious a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a expressionless butt beside us, and I returned his gesticulate with a nod. He filled a field-glasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bench first continuing.
“As a betting houseman, I’d be ready to wager a honourable piece of invent you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the capitulate slung across my back.