“I am pleased to make your acquaintance monsieur Volker. Indeed Il was a blessing of zee lady to find zee Guild of Esteemed Sellswords, or at least zer flyer, weeh pointed moi in zis direction.” Here Frans Vou flattened out the slip of parchment upon which the Guild’s name, and the location of the Limping Nag tavern were emblazoned in bold colors. Folding his hands Frans Vou leaned ever so slightly to the left in order to look past Volker’s bulk and gaze upon the man working the bar, the apparent Ludolf Bohn who’d been so kindly indicated. Frans Vou couldn’t help but frown at this realization, casting a worried glimpse deep into Volker’s brown eyes trying to catch some hint of deceit. Surely a great warrior, an honored leader of a proper mercenary guild wouldn’t lower himself to the work of commoners, cleaning dwarf spit from tumblers. Frans Vou expected Ludolf Bohn to be a rough man, but certainly not a humbly working one. Still the young knight detected no sign of malicious intent in the aging warrior’s gaze, seeing only honest intention and curiosity on Volker’s face.

	Biting his lower lip Frans Vou gave a quick shake of his head, clearing away his thoughts of mistrust. “No, ah I am not looking for work, in so much as seeking glory and adventure and more importantly a way to find it. I ‘ave no need for gold, zough I would not refuse it, haha. I am wei zey call a knight Errant of Bretonnia. My quest led moi ‘ere, not zee typical rout of an Errant knight, but I was not traditional in my leaving home neizer.”

	At that moment a small commotion was occurring between the elf and a couple dwarves. Frans Vou cast a baleful look in their direction, a slightly irritated tone in his voice as he addressed Volker. “Are zee old folk always like zat? Zey are not so common in zee place w’ere from I ‘ail from. Nay, I cannot say I ‘ave seen zem interact before.”