Bonfo reaps his reward, and gets reaped a bit himself

Excerpted from "Loitering with Intent: the Letters and Diaries of Bonfo the Brazen, Master of Moustache" As you know, "under the cover of darkness" is the guiding principle for many in my profession. My motto however is, "under the cover of daylight." I don't mind telling you that the sheer brazenness of plying my craft when and where people least suspect it is the simple secret to my success. In line with this happy tenet, I have been in-hiding a mere stone's throw away from the location of my last job. Oh it was great fun, while it lasted, to watch the guards and garrison fan out far across the realms in search of my trail while I hid comfortably right under their figurative noses. You'll be relieved to know that I have not even changed my appearance all that much. After letting my hair grow wild, a dirty pair of hiking boots and a used poncho were all the camouflage needed to complete my disguise. I have spent my days leisurely hiking the mountain landscape and my nights enjoying the local food and drink. The plan has (or had) been proceeding so perfectly that yesterday when I strolled into the local tavern, full of good spirit and nursing a thirst for a brown ale, I would have proclaimed to any and all who asked that this was indeed a wonderful day to be alive. Yesterday. Only yesterday it was. Yesterday when I walked into the tavern, the barkeep should have nodded his welcoming nod and said, "afternoon Mr. Cobb, something cold for ya then?" I mean, that's how he greeted me every afternoon for the past several weeks. Instead, I was met with a disdainful glare and a gruff, "you then eh, yer usual I reckon?" I was shocked. Before I could ask if I had unknowingly wronged the man he barked at me to, "c'mon now, don't be wastin' my time, there be other folk dat' need servin' you know!" I noticed out of the corner of my eye that several strangers were studying me indirectly but scrupulously from a corner table of the tavern. "Dat's why it's me usual, obviously" I huffed out, "and me gold be as good as anyone else's like, you miserable excuse for a -" "Oy!" The barman snapped. He slid a glass of whiskey to me, then put his finger right in my face and warned, "I'll have no trouble from you now. If you can't be a polite customer like, you can get right out!" "Lessons in etiquette from o' dwarf!" I shot back (quick thinking there eh?) and downed my whiskey in one gulp. Then I burped right in the barman's face, turned, and staggered out. A hiker's dirty garb looks more or less the same as a town drunk's, and that was no accident on my part. Once out of sight of the tavern, I doubled back to the side stairs of the inn, fled up to my room, and retrieved the sack hidden under the floorboards. I had kept in a state of readiness you see, so I was gone from the inn, supplies in hand, less than a minute after leaving the tavern. I headed discreetly to the forest where I knew the many criss-crossing trails would help obfuscate my escape. I was calm and composed. Disguise is, after all, part of the bread and butter of my trade and I had given them no reason to suspect me. But as I walked something itched in the back of my head, as if I had forgotten something. "Paranoia!" I told myself and pushed the feeling away by taking in great lungfuls of fresh mountain air. Then I stopped in my tracks and cursed. I had not forgotten something; I had remembered something. I had remembered that I had not put down any gold for my drink. Worse, the barman had not asked me to do so. Local drunks hardly ever have running tabs at respectable taverns. From the direction of the tavern, I heard excited shouts and the sound of neighing horses being saddled. I turned and fled. That was yesterday. Today, I scribble this note to you while stowed away in the cargo hold of a ship headed across the great Dragon Sea. I know little of our destination, a realm called Serin, but feel optimistic that this land will be one of opportunity for a crafty soul such as myself. I hope you'll recognize me when next we meet. I confess that ever since bathing and shaving this morning I've been musing over whether my notorious face will, even in this new land, simply be too recognizable. I hazard that I'll have to think of a new, more permanent disguise for my features. Yours with affection, -Bonfo