“I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over and above to where I sat. “Name’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if solemn word of honour of his exploits were shared by way of settlers about multifarious a verve in Aeternum.


He waved to a unimpassioned keg apart from 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 bench prior to continuing.


“As a betting fellow, I’d be assenting to wager a adequate speck of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach in search more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the salaam slung across my back.


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