An old man in a threadbare robe squints at you, fiddling with his matted beard. "What do you seek, soldier? Oh

An old man in a threadbare robe squints at you, fiddling with his matted beard. "What do you seek, soldier? Oh, I'm sorry — General, of course! So, what'll it be? Spells, magic? Secrets? Old Ignash can do anything, knows everything... I have wands and potions. I can tell you your fortune... It won't cost you much..." You detect the sour stench of stale alcohol, as the old man mumbles.