"Have you met with the witch yet?" A man with short brown hair asked, taking a gulp of his frothy beer.

"I heard she cured John of his illness." Said the man with a scarred face.

"Wendy and I were trying for a child for months, but it wouldn't take. She was pregnant soon after one visit and a potion." The brown haired man shared.

"Did the witch impregnate her?" The scarred face man asked dumbfounded.

"No, you git!" The brown haired man snapped back. "I didn't really understand what the witch was saying, something about the sacred name of the Goddess, ask for a blessing, love and respect, blah blah."

The sound of a tankard slammed on the wooden table. A man with messy blond hair, sat beside the chatting men. He seemed ill kept. His armor was unpolished, dented, and scratched. His cloak was frayed at the ends and had tears throughout. But his sword was pristine. The shagreen grip was clean but well used. The cross guard was made of steel and had a beautiful deep purple gem in the center. The gem looked like it held the stars inside, swirling like the cosmos.

The man stared at the chatting men for a moment. They couldn't decide if he wanted to kill them or befriend them. "So this witch," the man finally talked, looking into his tankard, sloshing the liquid inside. "what's she like?"

The two men glanced at each other. "Um…" The brown haired man spoke up. "It's because of her that we had enough food through the winter. Our crops have never bore so much fruit."

"Hmm." The stranger grunted. He stood up and walked out of the tavern. Leaving 2 tarnish on the table for his drink.

"Who the hell was that?" Said the scarred face man.

The brown haired man sighed. "Didn't you see his sword?" He looked out the window at the stranger getting on a horse. "He's a Mercenary."