The tavern was clean without being fussy—fresh straw was on the floor to absorb spilled drink and food, and the tables were modest but freshly scrubbed. Several different barrels of ale were behind the bar itself, with old polished brass handles above the spigots. Beneath them were several other bottles of spirits, many of the spirits of Dorian, but a few more exotic bottles than would be found in most taverns in the city. A honeyed scent arose as a merchant watched his mead poured into a transparent glass mug designed to highlight the colors of its contents.
Caedrasp’s eye noted several bottles of wine from local producers, which were relatively marginal to a few bottles of medium quality. Even the local joy girls were better looking and younger than average, keeping a low profile with t
