Ade was broke. 

And not the broke that rich merchant's wives say that they are, the type of broke where they have to perhaps not eat out one night, or maybe not buy that new dress imported from the Southern Isles. No.
Ade had literally zero coins in his pouch. There was no metal there. Nothing. Nada. 
Which was why he was stuck sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair by the fire, instead of hiring out one of the rooms on the top floor. He'd been in the inn since last evening, spending his last few coins on a paltry meal. In all honesty, his meal (scarce as it was) was too expensive for the five coins he had put on the table. Ade figured it was his way with tavern owners that got him the meal, but he couldn't stay off their charity forever. They were already sending shifty looks his way, as if they imagined he would make off with one of their china bowls from the porcelain cupboard or something. And, even though Ade was no thief, his situation was pretty desperate. He might just take the chance and leg it. 

And then, at some point in the early hours of the morning, a man had entered the inn, and gone to sit in a secluded corner. There wasn't anything overly surprising about this: people went in and out of the inn all the time. But something about this man made Ade look. As he sat down, Ade caught the glimpse of a lute, and immediately became excited. Down back at home, music was a massive part of their culture, and people would play at any chance they got. Ade figured that if the man was a wandering minstrel, he might know some songs from the South, and the mere thought of hearing a piece of home again emboldened Ade to get up and introduce himself to the fellow.

The man was studying a roll of parchment extremely thoroughly, and so didn't seem to notice him until he was standing right above him.
'Hello there!' Ade said, clearly but not overly loudly. He didn't wish to startle the guy.
'You're a wandering performer, I gather, from the lute. I was wondering- and I hope I do not impose too much- if you knew of any songs of the South, or even any tidings from the coast?'