Winter 1st, 511AV.
It was a cold afternoon, and though it was still early the skies were dark and gloomy. Wind blew through damp streets and light rain splattered on the many rooftops that made up Syliras. Romen made his way hurriedly through the streets with his collie Vida at his heels, hoping to avoid the inevitable storm that seemed to be approaching.
He walked into the Rearing Stallion releasing a burst of cold air into the small tavern. He hung his coat up on the rack by the door and went to sit by the fire to warm himself up. Vida lay down under the table, content to sleep there for a while. The seats by the fire were nearly always full if you got to the tavern too late, but in the late afternoon when it was quiet enough it was easy to get them.
A young barmaid came to his table and asked him what he'd be ordering that day. "One mug of ale, please" he replied in a thick British accent. She returned with his drink shortly and set it down on the table. He smiled showing off some of his white teeth and handed her 2 silver mizas. He had gained a little bit of money earlier that day when a young widow had come to him in order to speak with her husband who had recently passed away. Her husband had been a Syliran Knight and died protecting the city. Roman smiled a little, knowing he should feel bad taking advantage of her grief in order to earn some money. He didn't particularly care though, having done this for years and using it to get his way out of most situations.
His dog nosed his leg, seeming to have woken up and was now demanding attention. He scratched behind her ears and she had closed to him, pressing herself against him. He sat there, petting her with one hand and taking a gulp of ale with the other.