If there was anything that Arthur could point to and say was his favorite thing about his job, it was the stories. He knew that some of it was his memory problems, but every traveler who stepped through the doors of the inn seemed to have a new and different tale to tell.

As the prestige of the Tilting Tankard grew the people who visited came from further and further away from the little village. Everyone wanted to see the inn where all the races of the world managed to set aside their difference and work together. So too, the tales began to come from further and further away.

Sometimes, when Arthur wasn’t serving patrons and had a moment to pause and listen, he would daydream about going to those places. He knew it was just silly dreaming. He would never find his way back if he left the inn. Still, in his dreams, he visited places that were as far as he could imagine from the little inn he called home.