The Princess's Escort (Patreon)

Are you the sellsword named Qarver?” A young girl with a regal air asks as the mercenary  enters the small room at the back of the tavern.  

“I am.” Qarver answers confidently, sitting down at the table with a plate of meat in one hand,  and a mug of ale in the other. “Though, I prefer ‘mercenary’, if you please.”