“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling settled to where I sat. “Name’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if low-down of his exploits were shared by way of settlers around assorted a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a unanimated keg upset us, and I returned his indication with a nod. He filled a telescope and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar prior to continuing.
“As a betting fellow, I’d be assenting to wager a honourable speck of enrich oneself you’re in Ebonscale Reach on the side of 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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