The Sunne In Splendour: A shining beacon amidst the big smoke.

Dear Reader

As I am sure you are aware, the port city of Luneden is an almost mandatory stop when making a long journey from Northymbra to the continent, whether traveling by road or river. This is particularly true for those heading to the more southerly nations states. Of course, such a grand city requires a few days to properly take in, and even if one is familiar with the "big smoke", it can be advisable to take some well-earned rest after what may have already been a significant amount of travel. Whilst the city boasts a great many lodges, dormitories, and hospitals, The Sunne in Splendour Inn is perhaps one of the most enjoyable places to recuperate, in its own way. Let me tell you the tale of my stay over two nights at the venerable establishment.

On the day of my arrival, I approached the city by road from Anglia. After a full day under the canopy of Yapping Forest, one does not need to tell a seasoned traveller how welcome a sight the city walls were; particularly the Eastern Gate and the flanking pair of guard towers. After passing through the enormous portal, I proceeded along the main road toward the centre of Luneden. Within a few moments I was able to identify my destination; a glistening effigy of the sun standing proudly above the roofline, depicted in bright yellow and orange, standing out from the grey clouds overhead and the various stones, tiles and thatches of the surrounding buildings. Bright polished brass, inlaid along the sculpted rays emanating from the central disc, glinted and glittered in the true sunlight (at least, what little broke through the almost omnipresent grey cloud cover), helping catch the attention of passers-by. The disc itself featured a vaguely mammalian face, gurning somewhat disconcertingly, yet oddly still invitingly, and beckoning potential customers to come closer. As one follows this instinct, one will see a second copy of this sigil gently swinging in the breeze as it hangs into the street, above the front door of the inn.

The building itself sits right on the cobbled road, rather than having a front yard of any sort. The low walls of the ground floor are of sturdy grey stone (akin to so many of Luneden's buildings) and studded with uncharacteristically large rectangular windows. A pair of steeply angled roofs sit directly atop the stones, made in the southern style with bright red tiles and thick timber beams, between which are well-maintained white-rendered walls. Standing sentinel at each end of the building, tall chimneys gently puff, keeping soot and smoke high above and away from the beasts wandering the streets below. They also make promise of roaring fires and a warm welcome within! The front door, sitting almost directly under the ridgeline of the western roof section, is constructed of reassuringly heavy oak boards, held together with bright iron bars and hinges. Next to the door hangs a large poster, intricately illustrated with the image of a grand trade ship (perhaps a caravel or carrack*) cutting through the swell. Despite being somewhat faded by the unenviable Luneden weather, the words "Ship Strong Ales" are instantly recognisable beneath; a sure sign of quality for those familiar with the brewery of said name, situated only a handful of miles outside the city.

Despite its obvious weight, the front door swung open easily on the well-oiled hinges, revealing a wide bar room; light and airy thanks to the large windows, and furnished with a variety of tables, benches and stools to suit beasts of all sizes. As I had arrived in the early evening, The Sunne in Splendour Inn was already bustling with patrons of all stripes; eating, drinking, and making merry!

I made my way to the wooden bar at the centre of the main room to find the proprietor, Lepus Lollop. The old hare recognised me almost immediately, despite not having visited for a number of years, and greeted me like a life-long friend. A quick discussion agreed a rate for food and accommodation for the duration of my stay, before he whipped a ladder out from behind the bar. Ushering me to a nearby seat, sharing a table with a blackbird and a pair of dormice, he scampered away with my bags to stow in the loft.

Lollop's daughter, Lettice (arguably the very definition of the buxom barmaid), soon appeared at my side asking what I would like to drink. I did not need to worry about a B.O.G. discount; clearly visible form my seat, pasted at the side of the bar, was a B.O.G. recruitment poster. With a knowing wink in her tone of voice, she asked if I had my B.O.G. membership card with me, then recommended the new Chestnut Ale they had just tapped. Having shown my membership card**, I took her suggestion with thanks, and within a moment or two, the froth-topped pewter tankard landed in my paw. Heady malt notes filled my nostrils, followed by the gentle tang of rich hops than could only have come from Anglia. Moments after the dark liquid passed my lips, the soft chestnut flavours washed across my tongue; hardly a surprise given the way the drink had been introduced, but something that took my mind a couple of sups to get used to. Altogether, it's a style I would strongly recommend to the connoisseur, but perhaps not so to those less well versed in, or indeed confoundingly opposed to, the ambrosia-esque delight we call beer.

Wearied as I was from a hard day's travel, I barely noticed the quality of the food served to me***, thus I shall cover the proffered menu later in this article. However, I can definitively report that my appetite was well sated. Conscious of my mood, and contrary to my normal preference for variety, I decided to forgo reviewing the breadth of ales available at The Sunne in Splendour for the evening; instead sinking into comfortable conversation with my table mates (all local traders and workbeasts, relaxing after a worthy day of labours) and a relaxed stupor as the strength of the Chestnut Ale made itself known to me. I did refrain from excess however, knowing of one of the quirks of the inn...

As the evening drew to a close, the majority of patrons made their farewells and headed for hearth and home. With the bar all but cleared, Lollop once again drew the ladder from behind the bar, this time with the greater effort and obvious fatigue that one would expect of a beast coming to the close of their daily work. He set it against the back wall to one side of the bar, before drawing out a second and then a third ladder. Each securely knocked into pits in the floorboards and lintel stones, worn from placing the self-same ladders time and again in the exact same spot, beneath hatch doors to the trio of loft spaces that serviced as accommodation. I had been bunked in the Western loft with a rabbit, whom I later learned was moving from Hæstingaceaster to live with his sister just outside Alnwick, and a Fox working as a travelling mercenary. The Easterly loft had been hired out in its entirety by a discretion of priests from the Order of The Bounteous Harvest on a pilgrimage to Cent. The third ladder, and indeed loft space it led to, I will discuss later.

The East and West lofts are all but identical. At both ends of each, almost at the apex of the roof line, a tall, narrow window lets in little more than a sliver of light. The sloped roof curves in from either side, creating comfortable nooks to curl up under. The bare wooden beams provide little comfort in of themselves and no furnishings are provided, though for a small nightly fee Lollop will offer a tightly-bound straw mattress. Whilst these conditions may seem barbaric to some, the experienced travellers amongst my readership will be keenly aware how precious even a dry floor and a weather-proof roof can feel****. As I was staying for more than one night, still had a significant journey ahead of me, and trusted Lollop a great deal more than many an inn-keeper I had encountered over the years, I availed myself of a small mattress, tucking my gear and body away near the Northern wall, far from the trap door. Shared body heat kept the attic room plenty warm, along with the dregs of residual heat rising from the empty bar below. This may not be sufficient in the depths of winter, and one can imagine a lone traveller feeling a chill should others not share the voluminous space, but for the duration of my stay it was perfectly adequate.

Sleep came easily to me that night, fuelled by exhaustion and a plenteous consumption of alcohol. I was awoken once, to the sound of a mole falling gracelessly from the other loft, having misjudged the ladder*****. The beast in question must have been a novice of the Order, based on the language with which he spoke post-landing. Still, such disturbance scarcely unsettled me, providing a brief chuckle before drifting back to a dreamless slumber.

The bright light of dawn softy filtered in through the high windows; had that not been enough to rouse me or my bunk-mates, the aromas wafting from the kitchen below certainly would have! Sliced grub meat and sausages gently frying, salted porridge simmering away, and fresh bread toasting directly over the open fire; few beasts, if any, could possibly resist such temptations first thing in the morning. Clambering down the ladder, we found the kitchen in full flow. In front of the roaring fire, a diminutive figure dashed back and forth to prepare our morning meal. The fire itself, built as it was like a blacksmiths forge, took up the fullness of the kitchen, which itself was essentially the open area behind the bar. The mood around the tables was jovial, with the priests choosing to mingle with those of us who stayed in the other loft. Even the Lollops joined us, as their chef whipped together a hearty Full-Northymbrian! There was certainly more food than I was able to consume, though the fox I had slept next to, who has asked to remain nameless, was more than happy to polish off that which I could not.

Reader, DO NOT repeat my mistake! Before I knew it, a heavy ladle crashed into the table next to my paw! This was followed immediately by a snarling maw of an enraged shrew appearing beside my face, aggressively enquiring why her food was not good enough for me! Lepus leapt to my defence just a hair later, trying to calm the little chef, Nan******. She was ushered back to her kitchen by the valiant inn-keeper, whilst Lettice saw to my well-being. In truth, I was quite rattled by the suddenness of the experience, but a warm cup of tea soon set that to rights. The promise of a free pint of beer later in the evening, as recompense, even more so. I'm not sure all guests who "critique" the food, intentionally or otherwise, would be so lucky!

After what was otherwise a perfectly adequate breakfast, I partook of a morning constitutional. In part to settle my mind after the morning's excitement, but also taking the opportunity to meet with acquaintances living in Luneden one had not seen for many a year. The relatively fresh air, laden as it so often is with the smoke and ash of a thousand chimneys and smoke stacks, was revitalising even after so much recent travel. On returning to The Sunne, I was once again in good spirits. Approaching the building from the rear as I was, or the north for those whom may be approaching from a different city gate, one would find the tavern terminating St. Timothy's Alleyway. A rickety looking chimney looms over passers-by and almost into the alley itself, threatening to collapse onto the cobbles save for the thick iron chain and rough ironwork bars shackling it to the wall. The much shorter third roof section comes almost down to the street here, potentially dousing the unwary with run-off during particularly heavy rain. As one may have guessed, this section houses the bar and kitchen of The Sunne in Splendour, along with the living quarters of the Lollops in the loft space above.

To the left of this section of the building, a small walled in yard allows for stowage of a few barrels, with a door to access the kitchen. Surprisingly for the centre of a city, an elder bush in almost rude health has erupted in the eastern most corner, against the wall of the bar room itself. At the right time of year, the harvest from this bush is used to make one of The Sunne's speciality dishes. The elderberry and almond pie is certainly not to be missed if one is visiting between Wodemonath and Winterfylleth. Of course, at the start of the season the berries themselves may be a little tart, and as the nights draw in one risks missing the pies entirely if the harvest has not been too bountiful. Such can be the vagaries of travel, as I am sure my readership are well aware.

To the right of the building lies a more open yard. Whilst slightly smaller than the first, it is open to the public and has a simple wooden bench where patrons can enjoy their drinks on a pleasant summer's day (or indeed during less clement weather should the bar itself be overcrowded!) One can also usually find a handful of empty beer kegs patrons are welcome to perch on, though I wouldn't want to get in the way on the day the fresh barrels are delivered from the brewery. Above the bench, a large window looks in across the kitchen, I'm sure much to the annoyance of Nan "the Pan". The yard also has a door allowing entry to the rear of the bar, right next to the western fireplace. It was through this portal that I re-entered The Sunne in Splendour, finding the room already bustling with activity barely a few hours into the day.

As one would expect of a busy watering hole near the centre of a thriving metropolis, especially of a trading port, the clientele of The Sunne in Splendour are a mixed bunch. Having already mentioned priests and wandering mercenaries earlier in this article, no one should be surprised by the full gamut of beasts who pass through The Sunne's doors in search of succour. Dock hands and sailors, merchants and guilds' beasts, rich and poor (should they have found coin to spare) are all welcome here; though admittedly the welcome is not shared so equally. Lepus has an almost preternatural ability to be by the front door as the Great and Good of Luneden pass by, and at such moments he always seems to find time to meet and shake their hands, guiding them back inside before they have even realised what has happened. Perhaps those most exquisite ears of his can hear the gentle chink of a heavy coin purse as its owner walks down the street. He certainly seems to feel it is his civic duty to help lighten that particular load! Of course, such entrances are well met and sufficiently hailed (mostly by Lollop himself). I shall leave it to others who may witness these acts to decide whether they are to rightly acknowledge those beasts of higher bearing, or merely Lollop's attempt to cement the reputation of The Sunne as the drinking spot of choice for those of great import to the city. I will note that my arrival did not elicit such reaction, though perhaps the other beasts are more creatures of habit (and as such more predictable to Lollop) than my chance passing on a grander journey, rather than the lack of pomp and circumstance being a slight against my noble birth...

To further highlight the virtue of The Sunne in Splendour, Lollop makes sure it is seen that he turns away the criminal elements that try to enter his establishment (at least those who may present themselves as such; politicians and lawyers still seem to be able to meet and drink within). Similarly, there is a strict prohibition on gambling within the walls of The Sunne. The only exception to this is a Glückshaus board stored behind the bar; for a returnable deposit of a single penny, the board can be used all day if one desires, and if players have sufficient coin. However, the house rule for the roll of a 4 is that the coin in play is paid to the board owner (Lollop, naturally). Best played with coppers then, in my opinion, rather than silver pieces or gold sovereigns... though I have seen some exceptionally wealthy beasts do just that; perhaps in a vain attempt to show off just how prosperous they may be (or conceivably to launder a bribe or three).

Naturally, such fine folk rarely make their way through the world without some sort of protective escort, even if they themselves are especially well renowned warriors; it's hard to relax if you are watching your own back after all. Except maybe for owls... but I digress! Such an assemblage of bodyguards generally prevents revellers from getting too rowdy. Nevertheless, there is a pervasive atmosphere of bonhomie that overwhelms any apprehension one may otherwise have from being watched. And if that were not enough, there is the beer!

Typically The Sunne in Splendour serves four or five of the offerings from the Ship Strong brewery, with a guest ale or two from further afield should something special take Lollop's fancy. Being so close to Luneden's wharves and docks, there can be a surprising variety. For this reason alone B.O.G. members absolutely must make a point of visiting The Sunne when traveling to or through the city. For the duration of my visit the only available guest was an exceptionally smooth Belgican Doppelbock that one could practically chew on. Very much my choice of style, but perhaps not one to follow an already filling meal. Full bodied, rich and as sweet as any I have sampled of this style; I would recommend you make sure to try it, but fear The Sunne's supply will have been entirely consumed by the time this article is published.

As one might expect, the Ship Strong beers are available based on the seasonal styles and will change throughout the year. One constant though is Ship Strong "Captain's Best". As a staple throughout the southern parts of this fair isle I am sure many B.O.G. members, and even a good number of the non-members amongst my readership, will be familiar with this particular bitter. For those few who aren't, it is a particularly middle-of-the-road, inoffensive Best Bitter. Nothing too exciting, neither is it unflavoursome. A solid, dependable, easy to drink ale that cannot be described as anything more than averagely malty with a standard amount of hoppiness and a reasonable strength. A perfect house beer that should be at least sufficient for any beast, regardless of their preferences (discounting those heathens who dislike beer, of course...)

I have already mentioned the delectable Chestnut Ale as my drink of choice on the first night. Beside this stood quite a piquant Saxna-style******* Pale Ale called "Picards' Choice" (and no, the apostrophe is not a typo!) Whilst lighter bodied than my usual preference, I can imagine the acidity pairing well with roast meats, cutting nicely through any greasy, fatty flavours. Lastly, during my visit, The Sunne had a cask of "To the Admiral!" on tap; the premium cousin to Captain's Best. A similar style bitter, but darker and richer in flavour. Whilst it absolutely caters more directly to my tastes, I don't feel the higher price point it is sold at is fully justified. I fear it may be called a premium beer to justify the price, rather than the other way round. That said, if your coin purse doth overflow, it is a more pleasant drink.

In addition to the ales, Lollop likes to keep a sizable, ready stock of meads. As a singular connoisseur of beer's honey-based cousin, he has been quite particular in making his selection. Despite being on the doorstep of many of the greatest orchards in Cent, whose hives produce some of the best honey I have tasted and whose trees grow many of the finest cider apples, Lollop instead sources the mead from a monastery in Kernow. I must say, the quality is exceptional; the crisp, clear waters and wild flowers thriving in the ocean mists make for a truly unique flavour profile. The monastery in question, a Moristasgun Order as I understand, supply three variations to The Sunne. The first is a dark and almost syrupy liquor, which seems more akin to something brewed by a priest of Medignus instead! At The Sunne, it has been rebranded as "Pisky's Fun", and supposedly has medicinal qualities, as of course honey does naturally, but beyond sending one off to the most sound of sleeps I could not divine what said qualities might be. Certainly a night drinking nothing else would only result in making one feel quite the opposite of well! "Golden Dawn" is the much more pleasant variety, akin to a robust Bordeaux wine in terms of strength and body, but with the lighter sweet tones and floral finish one would expect from mead. Finally, "Kernow Spirit" is essentially the same as "Golden Dawn" but watered down significantly. B.O.G. members, do not worry; this is not some back-handed effort to diminish a fine beverage, but an attempt by the monks to produce a brew that can be drunk throughout the day without inhibiting one's ability to correctly pronounce their daily prayers. The result is subtly flavoured, fresh and invigorating, and only passingly alcoholic. By some act of brewing wizardry, the priests have even managed to get the drink to gently sparkle, like the wines of Champagne, though supposedly without the secondary fermentation process. Quite the experience for the unwary when the keg is first opened, I assure you. 

To finish out the drinks selection, and to appeal to the more well-to-do clients, Lollop likes to keep a variety of wines to hand. These he sources directly from the dock side as they are taken off the ship, bringing in what takes his fancy at the time. From what I have seen, he tends to favour the vineyards of Gothia and Sicilia, though I would not want to mislead those who share his preference; you are just as likely to find a Riesling from the more northerly reaches of the Rhine, or the robust reds that emerge from the trading port at Bilbao.

Whilst a public or ale house may survive solely on the quality of its beer (and I am sure The Sunne in Splendour could by this dint), any inn worthy of the title must satiate the hunger of those that pass under its doorway as well. Whilst breakfast is only available to those guests taking lodgings, luncheon is available from noon until approximately two o'clock, with dinner and supper available from six. Penny-gruel is available at both services, for those beasts whose coin purse is somewhat lacking (I believe I even witnessed Lettice "forget" to charge a pair of elderly stoats who had clearly fallen on hard times), along with the classic Luneden dish of jellied eels, mashed turnip, and minted peas. Lighter seed and salad dishes are usually available at lunch for those with less apatite (or for those whom the thought of jellied eels turns their stomach!) This menu is often supplemented with special dishes, such as beetle leg stew or slug and earthworm pies, whilst the supply lasts.

During my visit, I opted for a simple holly berry salad, still being somewhat full from the morning's breakfast. Being still mindful of Nan's reaction at breakfast to this day, I will simply state now that every meal I ate was perfectly satisfactory. I certainly have no complaints about the food, and portion size and prices appear to be fairly proportioned for different species.

This is definitively NOT a complaint about the food or even the service at The Sunne, but lunch was disturbed in a most perplexing way. As I was penning my notes whilst munching through a particularly crisp dandelion leaf, there was a loud clatter coming from the cellar door behind the bar. Now, I am sure in most circumstances such a noise would barely raise an eyebrow, but with Nan at the fireplace and both Lepus and Lettice serving patrons in the middle of the bar room, the unexpected sound caused a stir amongst the staff, resulting in them almost dropping the trays, plates, and drinking vessels each was carrying at the time. The clamour was shortly followed by the explosive emergence of a consternated starling, followed by a scarcely more composed otter. My eyes settled on the waistcoat of the starling; diagonal stripes of bright blue and green, ringing a bell in my mind, but one that sounded soft and distant. Unable to recall why this scruffy ball of feathers seemed so familiar, I shifted my focus to the otter. The staff and hooded robes, bedecked with all manner of pouches and scrolls, clearly signalled their calling as a Mage. The resplendent purple suggested to me that they were perhaps of the Collegia Arcana of Eoferwic, or possibly the knightly Order of the Crown. It was only as the otter started to usher the clearly frightened starling through the staring crowd that recognition dawned on me.

"Come Joseph, to the docks."

Of course, it was the same rapscallion who had attempted to pick my pocket at the Redwulf's Head! Whilst I would have liked to share a piece of my mind with him about that particular incident, I was too dumbfounded as to how such a being could have travelled to Luneden. I still managed to ensure I locked eyes with him as he passed close to my table, though given the rest of the room was staring in disbelief, I am not sure whether he noticed. Lepus made his way over to them, clearly recognising the otter. Whilst their conversation was held in hushed whispers, I just about caught Lepus enquiring what was going on, with the reply suggesting that it was nothing to worry about, and that Sir Hartley would pay well. Quite what Sir Hartley would be paying for, or indeed who he may be, I had not a clue. However, this did seem to satisfy Lollop, who went about the bar settling the patrons and trying to restore some semblance of normalcy. The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully; much chatter and discussion was shared with the very convivial patrons of The Sunne in Splendour, allowing the time to pass as easily as the drinks flowed.

From late in the afternoon, the delectable odours coming from the kitchen saturated the bar, despite the thick fog of pipe smoke hovering just above the heads of all but the tallest patrons. I can't speak for everyone, but I was certainly ready for dinner by the time orders were being taken. The evening menu is far more expansive than that offered at midday. Full roast cricket with all the trimmings, grub sausages and mash, seed loafs, beetroot wellington, all sorts of pies... it's almost a dizzying selection. As one might expect, not everything is available every day, but I don't think anyone will ever be disappointed by what is on offer on any given day.

I chose the grilled stag grub sandwich, loaded with a sharp cheddar and fried onions. A hearty meal, by anyone's standards, utterly dripping with flavour. Among other, less identifiable things. Certainly, one to enjoy when you have already partaken of a respectable number of alcoholic beverages. Again, with the ever present threat of "the Pan", I will not elaborate further.

After dinner, as is the case with so many pubs, inns, and taverns the world over, the real drinking begins. Not that the patrons of The Sunne in Splendour get too rowdy, as has already been mentioned. Well, for the most part...

For all the show of moral righteousness during the day, those beasts who are the keenest of eye may spot some of the less reputable individuals turned away from the main entrance slink in through the rear door later in the day. It would appear that Lollop has a small blind spot in this area, for I did not once witness him repel a single ruffian who snuck in this way.

Of those ruffians, a particular pair seemed to cause a bit of a ruckus. A rather brash hare "bumped" into a particularly stout boxer dog, resulting in a bit of a barking match. Just as things started to get a little too close to being physical, Lepus (a former pugilist himself) stepped in and escorted the hooligans outside. To my surprise, he led them through the bar and out of the kitchen door to the enclosed yard. As this happened, a fairly hefty proportion of the patrons filed out the back door, each barely suppressing giddy excitement. Swept up in this mantled furore, I had to investigate and followed the crowd, sneaking between the legs of larger beasts to get the best view.

The “troublemakers” had stripped to the waist and were circling each other with their paws raised in a protective stance. Empty beer kegs had been placed in front of the elder bush to provide some level of protection, suggesting this may not have been quite the spontaneous event it appeared. The crowd were whipped into a baying frenzy, with individuals taking bets on the outcome of the fight. Lollop may not be keen on gambling inside The Sunne, but these souls were most definitely in the alleyway behind, so no objection was to be had. The bare-knuckle brawl seemed incredibly vicious, with both fighters bleeding within a few moments. Whilst there appeared to be no formal timing for rounds, they did separate and take pause at the gong-like sound of one of the larger pans in the kitchen being struck, although perhaps my imagination was getting the better of me. By the sixth innings, the hare was looking decidedly worse for wear, with one of his ears hanging quite limp, and a distinct favouring of his left leg to support his weight. Shortly into the seventh round, the boxer landed a heavy blow across the hare's cheek, knocking loose a good handful of teeth and laying his opponent out cold!

As one might expect of such a contest, the victory was met with full throated cheers and heartbroken groans, followed by a shuffling of bodies as beasts sought to leave the confined street as quickly as possible, or to collect their winnings from whichever bookie they had chosen to deal with. Within not more than a few moments, the alley was as quiet as ever it had been, and the bar room as bustling as any time I saw it.

The rest of the night proceeded much as the first had, though I had significantly more energy to enjoy it. Pleasant conversation, enjoyable beers, and all-round comradery. Talking to a few of the locals, I found out that the excitement of the brawl was about as much entertainment as ever happened at The Sunne in Splendour; it is not a place to go to seek live music, wandering jesters, performing poets or the like. Of course, Luneden has no shortage of such venues, so having a reliable place where one can converse at a comfortable volume is a welcome boon.

At the end of the night, Lollop repeated his routine with the ladders. With the priests moving on with their pilgrimage and the rabbit heading onward toward Alnwick, I expected the lofts to be quieter but was swiftly abused of that notion. The defeated hare from the evening's fight had been hauled into the Western loft (quite how this had happened with all the disruption in the bustling bar, I still cannot fathom) and was being tended to by a young mouse who was apprenticed to the nearby Moritasgus Order. A frog and a toad had joined the mercenary fox, who collectively delighted in besmirching their missing compatriot; a mole who apparently had a sense of direction as poor as her eyesight. The final addition to our dozing collective was a family of bats, though mercifully they were able to roost from the ridge beam of the roof, just about allowing sufficient space on the floor for all to sleep without getting too intimate. The eastern loft was similarly cramped, with an equally esoteric mix of beasts slumbering within. Thankfully the day's drinking allowed me to slip into a deep slumber quite quickly, despite the cacophony of snores, grunts, wheezes and less polite bodily emissions.

The soft breaking of dawn was once again accompanied by the superlative scents of breakfast foods cooking. Clambering down the ladder, I found a room scarcely less busy than the inn had been during the previous evening. I was more careful to ensure I consumed all that was provided for me, opting for a honey sweetened porridge rather than overindulging on meats and fried things, knowing that later that day I would be having my sea legs thoroughly tested...

That thought does bring me on to the indelicate matter of the facilities. As is so often the case in the relatively cramped confines of a large city such as Luneden, no provision for bodily needs has been made within the architecture of The Sunne in Splendour. However, the public sewerage system is expansive and relatively well maintained. Not far from the back door, a small grate allows one to pass what's necessary in relative privacy, so long as no one else takes the alleyway at the time. For beasts less concerned about such things, there are of course multiple drains along the main road in front of the inn.

Shortly after breakfast, the first mate of the ship that was to carry me onward with my journey arrived to escort me to the docks. With Lollop's help, I retrieved my belongings from the loft, and set to take my leave. I took the time to thank him and Lettice (thankfully Nan had left by this point, presumably to acquire provisions for the meal later in the day) before heading out for what I hope is not the last time.

As ever, it is difficult to summarise one's experience in a few short paragraphs, and more so to further reduce this to a conclusion, but try one must. The Sunne in Splendour should be a priority visit for all B.O.G. members for whom life brings to Luneden; the drinks selection is exciting and varied, changing frequently but with a masterful connoisseur making the selection and ensuring something of interest is always available. The food is perfectly acceptable for the price, and well proportioned. Entertainment is minimal, save for the excellent company of those beasts who make The Sunne their watering hole of choice. Accommodation is basic but comfortable; perfect for those travelling on a budget, or wishing for an "authentic" experience whilst on a Grand Tour. Lepus Lollop could not be a more gracious host. He and his daughter are exemplars, and should be hailed by the publican community for their quality of service.

As ever, your faithful servant,

Madam E.d.A-M

*Sailors will have to forgive my ignorance of the classification of vessels. Whilst I am not opposed to traveling by ship, one prefers to keep one's paws on dry land as much as possible, and so has little interest in the specifics other than to find out which will get me across the water the quickest!

 
**A mere formality given our familiarity, but one that is important to follow!

***One must confess to consuming it in a manner more akin to the wretched Wildlings of the north than one would expect of persons of one's station...

****And were I one to succumb to the vice a gambling, I would wager many would prefer the bedding they travel with, sparse as it may be, over that which may have been shared by innumerable beasts before!

*****Or perhaps the quantity of alcohol consumed!

******There appears to be something about being a cook for inns or taverns that appeals to shrews in particular. One can certainly understand how the intense heat and hours of often thankless work would make one a touch more aggravated. Though as they say, if one cannot take the heat...

*******Lollop has asked me to reassure the reader that "Picards' Choice is only a Saxna-style, but is in fact brewed in Anglia with all other Ship Strong Ales! I believe there is a hint of a rivalry there, and would not wish to fall foul of such.