Tucked just off the town plaza, Oats & Ales leans like an old sailor into the wind. Cracked stone, moss-slick roof, a hearth that keeps its own steady time. Run by Oti, who knows every rumour by its first name, the inn is Brennin’s meeting place. Merchants haggling low, sailors thawing out by the flames, locals swapping stories that travel farther than any ship. It’s the kind of room where friendships are forged, tempers cooled, and news spreads faster than a bell can ring.