"Welcome, young lad, what can I get you?" the tavern keeper said, wiping off wet mugs with a cloth that had experienced better days.
"Ale is fine," Hubert answered with a respectful smile as he took a seat in front of the bar table, in the middle of the other patrons that now paid him no mind.
"Coming up!" the tavern keeper shouted loud and excitedly.
"What's a fine young lord doing here with a cheap, wattered mug of ale?" Hubert had just placed his bottom on the rough wood chair when a man said to him, with a mug of ale in his hand.
"I'm no lord, a mere customer, just like the rest of us," he responded, glancing at the man's attire. Equipped with leather armor while a short sword hung on his belt. A mercenary.
"Your sword speaks otherwise, lord," the man mentioned, his eyes pointing to the sword of Hubert's waist. A fine one, detached from the rest of the weapons in the room.
"..." Hubert spoke no more.
