You grab a tankard full of ale from the man’s hand and start drinking. Although the smell of ale is vivid and the tankard is full, you taste nothing as you gulp it down. There is no substance, it is only air. You look back at the man without showing emotion. He has a rough unkempt beard, a bald top, and a glistening forehead.

“’tis good right? Made it myself I did, hawh!” He wipes his forehead with a piece of cloth you hadn’t seen in his hand before now. “Been at it for months I did, all for the Jarl’s coronation.”

He points towards the far end of hall where a large burly man sits on a throne.

You nod and say thanks for the ale.