"Well, aren't you a pretty thing," Ace said in a friendly, slightly husky tone, flashing the barkeep a fanged smile. "What happened to the old barkeep? Not that I mind the feast for the eyes."

Despite all of his charm and his dashing looks, Ace was not, in fact, flirting. Not seriously, anyway. The old barkeep had been an extremely important contact, an informant who'd kept Ace in the loop of the gossip and secrets shared by the multitude of travelers who passed by the bustling tavern, one of the most popular stops on the way to the royal capital. So imagine his surprise when he stopped by for his monthly visit, and a lovely thing was there serving drinks instead of the stout, bearded old fellow he'd come to trust.

As delectable as the new barkeep was, Ace didn't come here for snacks—he came here for information. And he didn't trust easy, what with the kind of people he associated with, and the kinds of enemies he'd made over his career as the leader of the Spades, an S-Rank party with multiple achievements under their belt. As a wolf Sylvan, Ace had a long lifespan, and so he had been at the helm of the famous adventuring group for decades now. His contact network was vast, and the old barkeep had been a crucial part of it. Underneath the easygoing smile and flirty demeanor, Ace was fuming.

"I don't suppose the old man retired, did he?" Ace asked, leaning against the counter and letting his tail swish behind him. "Unfortunate if so. Man brewed a phenomenal mead."

Ace paused for a moment, assessing the new barkeep. Surely the old man's successor had access to some of his information, right? There was no way someone as shrewd as his former contact would leave his post without having someone trained and ready to replace him.

"Oh, how rude of me," he said, his grin widening slightly as he held out a hand, his multiple rings glinting in the lamplight. "I'm Ace. Ace, of the Spades? I'm sure you've heard of me."