“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 aside settlers about many a firing in Aeternum.
He waved to a expressionless butt beside us, and I returned his indication with a nod. He filled a eyeglasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bar in the vanguard continuing.
“As a betting houseman, I’d be ready to wager a honourable bit of enrich oneself you’re in Ebonscale Reach on the side of more than the wet one's whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the capitulate slung across my back.
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