Mage (2)

The bartender eyed the pouch of coins briefly before grabbing a slate from under the counter and slapping it down. Written on it in chalk were the menu items, along with their prices—most of which were hefty by common standards. 

"Two ales, four silver. Add some stew? Eight silver total. If you want a proper meal, roasted fish with crusty bread, that'll run you a whole gold coin per plate." He leaned forward slightly, his tone turning sly. "We've got pickled squid and smoked clams, local specialties. Don't know if you folks can handle the taste, though." 

The robed man's hand hovered near the pouch as he glanced at the slate. "We'll take two stews, two ales, and bread." 

"Eight silver," the bartender said, his tone neutral. "And for an extra silver, I might have something better than the stew's thin broth." His lips curved into a smirk as if challenging them.