Hans von Lipvig rode along the streets of Ubersreik. What a funny city this was, from the outside the impression was of wealth and goodness, the lights seen from oh so far away. Yet as he was properly in it he could see the true poverty and squalor. Truly this was the Reikland way: so much money to only cramp yourselves and make your folk miserable. Riding along the alien city he could not help but feel nostalgia for his home in Middenland. How he was so alienated from the people he grew with was an unwelcome and almost tear inducing thought to the lad, one he had to force down to continue.

Riding along the city he could not help but eventually have to stop for lodging and he wanted somewhere cheap. He happened upon one that he couldn't quite properly see the sign of, eyes blinded from a lamp the lamp-lit wealthy district he had just passed by. "The..." he began, trying to read the sign, but ultimately gave up realizing there was little chance of success, not to mention no real use in knowing the name. 

Instead he dismounted, and hitched his horse to a pole. He took the bag with his money off of it hoping nobody would steal the rest in the time he'd pay for the steed to be stabled before going into the tavern. Hans was looking through the bag as he walked in to the tavern and only paying attention to counting his coin, he realized quite late that he was in the midst of an empty room with halberd bearing men in it. The situation perplexed the young man as he closed the bag and again shouldered it before raising both hands placating to either side at chest level. "Now-now, sorry friends, it was an accident, I don't know whats here but I mean no trouble and I couldn't cause any even if I wanted to, I'll just be on my way out now if you wouldn't mind." He bloody well hoped they didn't notice him priming his pistol with an elbow as he shouldered his bag, it was a necessity should they attack but he didn't want it to be the cause for them taking a swing.