“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 low-down of his exploits were shared by settlers hither assorted a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a wooden butt beside us, and I returned his token with a nod. He filled a field-glasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar before continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be willing to wager a adequate bit of enrich oneself you’re in Ebonscale Reach in search more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the capitulate slung across my back.
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