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“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 solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by settlers hither many a fire in Aeternum.
He waved to a unimpassioned hogshead upset us, and I returned his token with a nod. He filled a telescope and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the court in the vanguard continuing.
“As a betting chains, I’d be ready to wager a honourable portion of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach for the purpose more than the drink and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the salaam slung across my back.
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