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"Heard the rumor?" In a dimly lit tavern in Brunas, a man leaned close to his friend with a mysterious air and whispered. His expression was wildly exaggerated, as if he were about to divulge a secret that would shake the heavens.
His friend, holding a glass of wine, frowned and looked at him, completely clueless about what terrifying secret he was about to share: "Heard what?"
They were all old buddies, after all. Coming out to drink was just about boasting and shooting the breeze; didn't they all know each other's backgrounds?
One was a foreman of a dock's loading team, with dozens of loaders under him and a little money in hand, enough to be considered middle class. Although he lived comfortably, he was neither filthy rich nor nobility.
