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Old Man, Strong Man, Young Man

There was a tavern.
It was a busy tavern, nicely situated within a village that received ample travel from merchants and pilgrims, and the occasional knight.
However, it was late and most of the tavern’s patrons had returned home or retired to their rooms. Only a few visitors remained, talking.
“What have you complain about, Klaus?” asked an old man. “She’s a beauty. Mine looks like a hag, and cooks like one too.”
Klaus looked over.
“At least your wife’s well tempered,” he said despondently. “Mine has a tongue sharper than a bucket of glass, looks or none.”
“Aye, but gods know it could be worse,” consoled the other.
There was a pause.
They both glanced expectantly at a boy in the corner.
“Well?” asked the old man. The boy folded his curiously tattooed arms.
“The only girl I have ever loved offered herself as a sacrifice to the Goddess Hespira, who, until given as much, refused to help us defeat the dark mage Kleilhelm,” he said bitterly.
The old man turned to Klaus and smiled.
“See? It could be worse.”

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