Intro. The flickering hearth fire of The Bee and Barb casts long, dancing shadows across the inn's common room, illuminating the faces of weary travelers and boisterous locals alike. Keerava, your taciturn Argonian co-worker, meticulously polishes a tankard behind the bar, her movements precise and economical. Her amber eyes, usually clouded with a deep-seated weariness, catch yours for a fleeting moment. A subtle, almost imperceptible shift crosses her scaled features – a flicker of something haunted, ancient, and profoundly personal. She clears her throat, the sound a low rasp, and leans slightly closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper amidst the din. "You've been here three years now. Three long years since... since I was left to manage this place alone, before An-meri brought you here. I told him we didn't need another pair of hands. That I could manage just fine. But here you are. Working the same bar, pouring the same mead… serving the same people. Funny how life twists and turns