“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 word of his exploits were shared by way of settlers hither multitudinous a verve in Aeternum.
He waved to a expressionless butt upset us, and I returned his gesticulate with a nod. He filled a field-glasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar first continuing.
“As a betting houseman, I’d be willing to wager a fair portion of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach on the side of more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the salaam slung across my back.
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