“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling settled to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if word of his exploits were shared by settlers about multifarious a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a unanimated keg apart from us, and I returned his indication with a nod. He filled a field-glasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the excluding before continuing.
“As a betting man, I’d be assenting to wager a adequate speck of enrich oneself you’re in Ebonscale Reach for the purpose more than the drink and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the bend slung across my back.