A well-dressed man in his fifties arrives without luggage. He pays for one night in silver coins. At the common table, he drinks mulled mead silently until only the innkeeper’s daughter remains cleaning the bar.
A coastal inn, November, gale-force winds. traveler inn tales
“Roads give you blisters. Inns give you stories. And a blister heals, but a good story? That’s a second pair of boots.” End of Report A well-dressed man in his fifties arrives without luggage