The night before, Maren slammed his tankard on the tavern table, spraying ale across planks while rain lashed the windows. Three regulars hunched in the corners over their cups, and behind the counter the keeper kept scraping at one mug.
He kept his fist locked around the handle while the spill crept up and soaked into his sleeve cuff.
"That gutter bastard," he snarled at the empty chair across from him, dragging the tankard back through the puddle.
"Strolls into the guild like somebody sent him an invitation, puts his filthy hands on me in front of everyone, and they stand there laughing instead of doing their damn jobs,"
"I should've thrown him through the doors before he opened his mouth, then we'd see who's laughing."
The keeper turned the mug over in his rag and kept every opinion about the guild to himself.
'Bond forfeited, two weeks of wages docked, and Yenna explains the rules to him like he matters.'
