"Surely the witch won't find me in here," I muttered as I stepped through the door. My former wife and her pack of strapping brothers weren't likely to find me in this place. They have this bad habit of wanting to pound my skull in. Some people have no manners!

The sign outside announced it as The Red Boar Tavern, and judging from all the people stuffed inside, they must serve good food here. Go where the locals congregate, I always say.

The scent of freshly baked bread hung in the air, and it reminded me of how hungry I was. It'd been awhile since I had a decent meal, and I hoped I had enough coin left to afford one. Barring that, I suppose I could always offer my services as a saga writer in exchange for something to eat!