Owen looked at him—the bard.
He remembered him well; the bard often recounted the deeds of past heroes and was quite popular in the market.
But today, he looked utterly drained of his former vitality, appearing desolate.
"Ah, times are getting harder. People no longer care about the old heroic tales; they've heard them all," he sighed, glancing at Owen, whose face was filled with joy. "Young Master Owen, do you think it's time for me to move on to another place?"
Owen looked at him, noting his advanced age.
Though for a bard, traveling from place to place was quite normal, at his age, encountering an arcane beast along the way could prove dangerous…
Unwilling to see a familiar face leave, and knowing he now had plenty of wealth, Owen reached into his pouch and discreetly took out a handful of gold coins, handing them to the bard with a smile. "Take these gold coins. They should be enough to set up a small business and support yourself."
