"Anyone that's still around here within the next minute, I'll assume they're willing to fight," Vol said. "We'll throw a feast this evening. You," he said, pointing at a random man amongst the crowd. "Find me the village chief. We'll pay them for their winter stores. We've lived poor for too long."
The man's eyebrows raised up eagerly. It had been a good week or two since they'd last found a proper tavern. It was mere villages since then, and villages never had enough alcohol for the lot of them – or at least, not enough that they wanted to share it.
