[h1][b][color=salmon][center]Daphne Saintmarie[/center][/color][/b][/h1]


It had been many years since Daphne had been inside a real tavern. There had been a few inconspicuous spots that her entourage visited occasionally to discuss matter of import, but nothing as lively as the one in Praetor City.  She was very nervous entering the establishment, though she could not deny the accompanying feeling of excitement. She suspected that this was what it felt like to truly be on her own in her journey.
 
However she could not completely ignore her instinct to play it safe, and while she drew her hood back Daphne was careful to otherwise remain as concealed as possible under her cloak. There were many other patrons scattered around the tables in the place, some enjoying enthusiastic conversations and some simply lurking in the darker corners. 

After allowing herself several moments to take it all in, Daphne reminded herself that she was there for a reason. With no real idea of where to begin, her first thought was the barkeep. She found him behind the counter cleaning a mug with a rag and keeping a vigilant eye on the activities in the tavern. There was one other guest at the counter, a woman who seemed to have had her fill of whatever she had been drinking, sitting on one of the stools with her face firmly planted on the countertop. 

Daphne stifled a grin at the sight of it and made her way to a seat several places down from the woman. The bar seemed to be the safest place to be at the moment, even though she did not herself imbibe. Having that conversation had become second nature over the many years of politely refusing to drink with the soldiers in the Empire, whose intentions could not have been any more painfully obvious.  She hoped that the barkeep could offer more in the way of giving directions than in serving her a mug.