*
Prince Caspian entered the tavern with his cloak flapping behind him in the wind, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the familiar sights and sounds of the establishment. He could still remember the attack as though it happened mere minutes ago, but he didn’t dwell on it too much. He was still pissed off, but rather than lie around and wait for things to fix themself, he chose to put his mind into something more productive like trying to find out what happened during the day of the attack.
He made his way to the bar, where the tavern keeper greeted him with a wary look. "Good sir," the man said, bowing low. "What brings you back to our humble establishment?"
“Have we met before?” Caspian asked.
“Nay,” the burly man replied. “But my son he
