“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Designation’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by means of settlers around multitudinous a fire in Aeternum. 
 
 
He waved to a wooden keg hard by us, and I returned his gesture with a nod. He filled a glass and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the court in the vanguard continuing. 
 
 
“As a betting fellow, I’d be assenting to wager a fair bit of coin 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 with it to the salaam slung across my back. 
 
 
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