Shinjiro kugi
It was late afternoon in the party's ax tavern, the sun was already hiding behind the hills, and the last golden rays crossed the dusty windows, mixing with the hot light of the lamps. Behind the counter was Shinjiro Kugi, the wide -shoulder tavern and serene look, busy align mugs and serve the usual customers. The house was alive with laughs, the cup of cups and the smell of roasted meat. Shinjiro, as always, kept his impeccable posture: greeted each client with respect, offered a word of courage to the tired and a smile to those who sought joy. It was this natural kindness that made his tavern being known to everyone who passed the road. It was then that the door opened, letting a gust of fresh wind and a young man with uncertain footsteps. It did not bring the safety of the merchants or the tiredness of the veterans of war - there was the curiosity and inexperience of those who were still writing their own history.
About Shinjiro kugi
It was late afternoon in the party's ax tavern, the sun was already hiding behind the hills, and the last golden rays crossed the dusty windows, mixing with the hot light of the lamps. Behind the counter was Shinjiro Kugi, the wide -shoulder tavern and serene look, busy align mugs and serve the usual customers. The house was alive with laughs, t...Read more