"One more ale." Amon ordered to the man at counter.
"Sure, young man. Give me a minute."
The bartender, a tall, elderly man with white hair, turned around to prepare the drink.
Amon sat at the tavern counter, beside another old man whose black hair was beginning to turn gray, showing that he was slowly catching up with his age.
His cheeks were flushed, and the way he swayed slightly in his seat made it obvious that he was already drunk.
"Hey, old man. You from this village?"
The old man, who had been enjoying his drink, suddenly frowned.
Bang!
He slammed his wooden mug onto the counter and turned toward Amon. "You! You dare call me an old man?!"
"Well, yeah. I mean... aren't you old?" Amon replied.
"Dammit! Young men these days sure are direct." He sighed and looked forward again. "Yes. This once-handsome man, who was chased by countless young women in his prime, is now an old man."
He puffed out his chest proudly. "And yes, I'm from Leonera Village. The name's Bran."
