300

The front room is populated mostly by elves, humans and dwarves. There is a very big fireplace, which you wouldn’t have thought could possibly fit inside this building from looking at the pug-faced exterior, and a spiral staircase leading presumably to the rooms in the opposite corner to the bar. At the bar, behind all the pretty serving girls (and boys), is the owner, or who you think is the owner. He’s a tall elf with red hair. he should know Maurice; everybody knows elves have perfect memory.

Sure enough, after you’ve exchanged pleasantries (and noticed the elf comically trying not to ogle you), you bring up the guard named Maurice and the elf’s eyes light up. He must be glad to be given an image that doesn’t cause him to ceases thinking straight. he goes on a ramble on how Maurice insisted that all friends of the city watch should be found a place at H’Rull’s at least once (and apparently daring to make small talk with the guards is sufficient to be considered ‘friend’), only to reveal that all his rooms are booked. Knowing (or strongly suspecting) his attraction for you, you give him the most crestfallen look you possibly can, thinking of a sad puppy. You can almost see his heart melt. You don’t care at this point that this man is nothing like the elves of legend, uptight and cold all the time; all that matter is he’s going your way. He asks if it wouldn’t be frightfully awful for you to share a room with one of the serving boys or girls.

Which do you prefer?

• Share a room with a girl? Turn to 40.

• Share a room with a boy? Turn to 180.