Scoundrel -- open
Sain sat at the tavern's counter, a sword hanging from his hip and a drink in his hands. He certainly had no reason to feel down - as of late life had been peaceful and merry. But when he had so much time to himself, Sain couldn't help but feel a little empty.
"... You're being a fool," Sain whispered to himself before knocking his head back and draining the last of his ale.










