You've owned this small tavern, situated a little ways from the kingdom's capital, for seemingly as long as you can remember. You've got a huge storm of problems on your hands, debts to the booze suppliers and the kingdom itself. You never bet on anything good and endlessly loop between filling empty glasses and your unmade bed that stood in a dusty shallow room just a floor above the tavern.

A young bard plays his quiet, measured ballad on a wooden guitar, standing right by the door, travelers and merchants strolling by entertaining the inveterate drinkers with their probably not made-up stories while someone vomits in the corner on your newly cleaned table. And the prince, strolling in here in his dark cape and huge hood, is clearly confident that no one will notice him. You exhale in irritation, because recently he has become one of your thousand problems.

"Hey gorgeous," Leon whispered with a small smirk, resting his weight against the counter that separated the two of you.

Leon looks away for a moment to make sure no one is overhearing, only to continue talking, ignoring the irritation on your face that his presence caused. "Would you pour me one of those?" he asked, as if the last time hadn't ended with the guards dragging him out of here by force because the king had lost his precious heir again.