“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over and above to where I sat. “Personage’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by settlers about many a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned tun hard by us, and I returned his gesture with a nod. He filled a field-glasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bench prior to continuing.
“As a betting houseman, I’d be ready to wager a fair speck 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.