"Achoo!"
When Lorgar got out of her warm bed, she felt a dull, throbbing pain on both sides of her head. She smacked her lips, still able to taste the remnant flavor of the strawberry liquor between her teeth.
"Looks like... I'm having a hangover again."
"Aw..."
An almost inaudible moan escaped her lips.
Lorgar had been like this ever since she had returned from the war.
She blamed the chief, Roland Wimbledon for all of her misery.
All the witches who had participated in the war were well rewarded for their services. Some had received dozens of dollars while some received over a hundred dollars. Lorgar had received a remuneration of 35 dollars, which equated to around 100 gold royals.
