The tavern falls silent when the bard lifts his lute. One by one, notes fill the air, weaving ballads of fair folk who bend the world with spells and potions, of sirens bound by ancient oaths and prophecies, and of brave princesses who ride beyond the edges of their lands to save their realms. Only the slosh of cider into waiting tankards dares disturb the songs. Until the final note fades, and the tavern erupts in cheers and stomping boots, pleading for another song.
 
Tastes like: A mug of apple cider by the tavern hearth, with sweet apple and orange wrapped in warm cinnamon spice.