>>5196015>>5196057"Hey," you say, trying to get the barkeep's attention. He has been fixated on cleaning that glass with that cloth ever since you walked in - well over 5 minutes now. It takes a few attempts to even catch his attention. His eyes are sunken and hollow, like you're looking into a void.
"Small wine costs a copper," he says, enunciating every syllable slowly in a dull voice. "A silver for a pitcher."
"I'm new here," you say. "I need a place to rest. Is there maybe... a room I could rent, perhaps?"
He continues cleaning the glass, staring at you, as if waiting for an answer to his question.
"Oh," you say. "I'm not interested in a drink. Not right now."
He continues staring, waiting expectantly for... something.
You reach into your packpack, find your coin purse, fish a couple of gold pieces out, and show them to him. "Money," you say. "For shelter? Would two gold pieces suffice for a few days, maybe some accomodations?"
His expression doesn't change. You simply stand there, defeated. You've met some strange people, but...
"Excuse me," you hear, directly from your left. You nearly draw your longsword by instinct, but stop when you turn and see who it is: it's the young man who was drinking alone in the corner, wine glass no longer in hand, standing non-threateningly. He's a tall fellow, but his posture sags slightly, and his face bears some burden. "Would you mind having a word? Over at my table."
...
(cont.)
