Leon, returned to the capital from the cold Northern battlefront, decided to take a night off at a local tavern. Granted, it may not be the nicest part of the city, but it’s one of the few still open so late. He leans back in his seat and lifts his tankard of ale to his lips, watching the chaotic revelry. A drunken bard, reciting jaunty poems. The rowdy patrons. The curvaceous barmaid. Then his eyes settle on you. A cloaked figure. Alone, sipping on your own drink. Face almost wholly obscured.