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I have owned this tavern since I was old enough to take over for my father. I will never understand why they decided to settle in the Boron Provence but, it has become my home. They come and they go. Travelers, thieves, and merchants, they are all the same. The smells, the stories, nothing ever changed until recently. Lately, things have seemed a little bit different, happier. I noticed a lot of the travelers talking about some new magic. Something called Fable Beard Co. I was intrigued, a dark elf was kind enough to let me in on the secret everyone was keeping. Beard oil, I had never heard of such a thing. My father has always used oils from cooking, which he taught me. The townsfolks love it and I enjoy them smelling a little better than usual. I hear a wizard in a land far away is the man who makes this stuff. I have been writing letters for months to get a supply of our own to sell to the townsfolk. Finally, a dwarf let me in on an order. I believe a fellow by the name of Captain Red is scheduled to deliver my order from Fable in about a weeks time. If it ever gets here, I never did trust pirates. Never mind that, if he ever does show up with my wares I shall make a hefty profit. The townsfolk have been spreading these beard oils all over town. Almost more than the soaps from the East back in the era of King Bestle. An archer walks into the bar. “What will you have?” Said the barkeep. “Let me have a pint of your finest mead.” Said The Archer as he set his bow next to the stool beside him. “Feeling good about yourself today?” The Barkeep grabs a mug from the worn shelf. “Some days are better than others.” The Archer gulps the first sip with supreme delight. “What is that smell if you don’t mind me asking?” The Barkeep noticed a strong smell of cinnamon in the air. “Fable, a beard oil from the West.” Man, that makes another traveler. I hope that pirate get’s here soon.
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