Chareth hesitantly crosses the treshold and enters the tavern. Dressed in stainless dark brown travel robes, he seems out of place in the crowd. His left boot lands in something slimy and undefinable, a look of extreme distaste on his face.

He scans the crowd intently and several of the patrons visibly grow uncomfortable when his gaze lingers on them. His expression is grim, but he seems to brighten up briefly as he notices the Imperial soldiers. His look quickly changes to disapproval when he notices the sheer number of empty beer mugs in front them, however.

He notices the commotion at the bar and his eyes visibly widen in astonishment as he gazes upon the men arguing there.

He moves to the bar, stepping very carefully to avoid staining his clothes further.

"Surely there is no need for such a competition. I am certain that the good citizens of this..." (he hesitates a split-second before continuing) "...fine settlement will be elated to accept help from everyone willing to do their part. In this difficult phase of transition, we are all required to help facilitate matters to the best of our abilities."

The speech sounds rehearsed and is delivered without much passion or expression. He pauses, seemingly lost in thought. Suddenly his thoughtful look shifts to undisguised astonishment – for the first time since entering the tavern he actually looks his young age: ”Did you really slay a dragon with that sword?”