“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Repute’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared aside settlers around assorted a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a unanimated butt apart from 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 bar first continuing.
“As a betting fellow, I’d be assenting to wager a above-board bit of enrich oneself you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the capitulate slung across my back.
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