“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling during to where I sat. “Personage’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by means of settlers about assorted a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned keg apart from us, and I returned his gesture with a nod. He filled a telescope and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar before continuing.
“As a betting fellow, I’d be willing to wager a honourable portion of coin you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my with it to the salaam slung across my back.