Fail (14 or lower)

Havilah hoped that the new Lord of Yamshire would come to the tavern, that he somehow would hear her out. Some brave fighter, with a hefty sack of even braver coin. A silly fantasy to escape her drudgery. But still, it incentivized tidy cleanings and reputable washings of flagons.

As the evening rush came in, she spotted the well armored lord, not entirely dashing, but with high cheekbones and a brooding visage, it was not disreputable. She approached his table, having only moments prior trussed her curls so that they fell perfectly along her fair shoulders.

“Good evening m’lord, can I interest you in anything?“

He barely looked at her, instead focusing on the topic with his companions. “Mead, with juniper if you have any.” He never looked at her beyond a serving Wench. Her dreams of being noticed in the little town were as ephemeral as a stream in summer.

47 gold gained.