“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling during to where I sat. “Name’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared aside settlers around assorted a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden hogshead hard by us, and I returned his gesticulate with a nod. He filled a glass and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the court before continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be assenting to wager a above-board bit of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach in search more than the drink and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the bow slung across my back.
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