“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling during to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by means of settlers about assorted a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned tun beside 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 first continuing.
“As a betting houseman, I’d be assenting to wager a adequate speck of invent you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the wet one's whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my in to the bend slung across my back.
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