“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over and above to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if word of his exploits were shared by way of settlers about multifarious a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a unanimated hogshead hard by us, and I returned his gesticulate with a nod. He filled a eyeglasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bench in the vanguard continuing.
“As a betting chains, I’d be ready to wager a honourable bit of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach in search more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the salaam slung across my back.
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