Vivian's boots left imprints on the ground as she made her way toward the rustic tavern she saw in the distance. The journey had been relatively uneventful, a welcome respite from the usual perils that accompanied her mercenary lifestyle.

Adjusting the straps of her red bikini top and the belt that secured her brown chaps, Vivian approached the tavern. The scent of roasting meat and freshly baked bread wafted through the air, causing her stomach to rumble. "I can't wait to chow down," Vivian said to herself. "Can't do mercenary work on an empty stomach."

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, she stepped into the interior, the chatter of patrons and the clinking of mugs creating a lively atmosphere. Her eyes scanned the room, noting the various travelers and locals gathered around tables, sharing stories and laughter.

Making her way to the bar, Vivian nodded to the barkeep, a burly man with a thick beard and a friendly demeanor. "One of your finest meals and a cold drink, please," she requested, handing him fifty gold pieces.

As she waited, she couldn't help but overhear snippets of conversation—rumors of bandit activity on the nearby trade routes, whispers of strange occurrences in the forests, and tales of a mysterious figure seeking information about ancient rune magic. Vivian raised an eyebrow. Perhaps this detour would offer more than just a hearty meal.