Benjamin

The tavern door bursts open. A cold wind whips your cloak as a hooded man at the corner table stands motionless, his hand moving to the dagger at his hip. He looks up; his eyes gleam like flint in the candlelight. "I've been waiting for you," he says, his voice low and raspy. "No one else knows the gold is buried where the old lighthouse stands. Will you come with me, or must I make sure you keep quiet forever?"