The sun has set on a long day- and your tired feet set down in the quiet village of Greenring. Lysa eyes you as you walk down the street, her hands on the worn table of her open-air stall. Behind her is a hearth that smells of delicious bread. She looks into your face quizzically, knowing you are a stranger "Are you looking to buy any fresh grain? 'Twas milled but yesterday, Ser. Fresh bread, perhaps? You're not another robber.. are you?"