The troop of Hillfolk girls emerge once again from the kitchen, carrying bountiful platters of food and drink. The middle-age woman brings Nai her plate personally. She sets the food down and politely refused coin for the food.
“Don’t tink I don’t know who ya are child.” She glaces at Nai’s garb.“Or who ya tink ya are anyways. I still follow de old ways here, and this here house be mine as much as it is dis outlander’s. You don’t cause trouble here, or judge me and me girls.”
With that she spins, on her heal and marches back to her kitchen.
As the evening meal is lain out, merchants begin talking amongst themselves. One conversation sticks out more then then others, as the two men are talking so loud as to almost be yelling. One merchant, is a greying human in fine, but simple travel clothes. The other, is a ratty white haired dwarf, with a smile full of gold teeth.
The human slams his mug on the table.
“It is our duty to the city to fix this problem and ensure the city has enough food to make it to the next harvest. You know as good as anyone that our local food crops are not enough too feed our population.”
“I still fail to see how this is my problem.” The dwarf utters through a belch.
The human sneers. “If honor fails to motivate you, perhaps economics will. Starving people will not pay for your luxuries. It makes good economic sense to shift our imports to bring more food into the city rather then the casks of wine and cigars you have on your wagons outside.”
“Bah, I sell my goods to the nobility and upper class. I have a feeling they’ll make it through this “crisis” just fine. In fact, I heard the grocer’s guild fabricated the entire rice weevil pestilence as a way to raise the price on rice.” The man grins. “Good for them”.
The conversation continues on into the night, until eventually, the dwarf laughs, shakes his head, and goes up to his room, leaving the human fuming into his rum.
Svexyn
You emerge outside into the evening air. The sky is turning orange and red as the sun nears the end of its daily journey. You can still smell the comforting aromas of The Lucky Monkey’s kitchen, but the din of hungry travelers lessens as you cross the threshold. Caravan workers are still hard at work brushing down pack animals and stacking barrels and crates for the night. You spy a covered pavilion that several off duty workers have already claimed spots under.
*Incoming Rolls
