Kaima Inn was particularly busy today, that morning a sudden horde of travelers arrived out of the blue and had begun exploring the village, a good handful of them milling around the bar and the rest exploring the rest of the tiny settlement. As a result it had been a pretty buys day so far, Alchemy was already worn out from running around to get people's orders to them quickly whilst not spilling the drinks and still having time to take the next tables orders before rushing back to the bar to deliver them and take the previous set to the next table and so on.

Remus, the blond, fat but kind-faced bartender gave Alchemy a peculiar glare as he watched her sink into a stool behind the bar and almost topple forwards from exhaustion. He set down the mug he'd been cleaning and looked down at her.
"Hard day, huh?" He commented.
"Easy for you to say," Alchemy replied, sitting up straight again "You just have to stand here and polish mugs all day, and you get paid more than I do to do it."
Remus chuckled sympathetically: "It ain't just polishin' I've gotta do y'know," he said "I've got to watch the bar and make sure nobody gets too drunk he starts trin' t' kill his neighbor, know what I mean?"

Alchemy frowned and rocked back on her stool, gazing up at the ceiling.
"Is that it now?" She asked "I can't do this all day."
"I think you did miss one table," Remus said "The one in the corner, with the load of Gypsy lookin' peoples."
A sudden crash sounded from behind him and he looked round to see Alchemy had succeeded in breaking the stool's back leg and had consequently toppled over backwards and smacked her head off the floor.
"Oh yeah," Remus scratched his chin "I was gonna warn you that leg's been a bit creaky lately."
"Thanks for the heads up," Alchemy moaned from beneath the pile of her own limbs.

Having untangled herself from the mess that was herself Alchemy brightened up and wandered over to the table in the far corner. Remus had been right about the Gypsy feel of them at least. At the table were three occupants, one was dark skinned and had black braided hair going down to his shoulders and a very pointed chin, the one furthest away from Alchemy was also dark skinned but kept her hair hidden by a tattered hood, as she talked Alchemy could see black teeth. The third was slightly shorter than the rest and had a hand missing, his skin was lighter but his eyes were blank, he also appeared much older and had wiry gray hair spiraling down his head.

Alchemy swallowed as she approached the three, taking in a very vivid smell of something unpleasant from the corner.
"Good afternoon," she said politely "Are you ready to order anything?"
The man with the dreadlocks leaned forwards and sniffed (for reasons currently unknown) and slid back into his seat.
"We're fine thanks, ma'am," he said, revealing a single golden tooth as he spoke.
"Oh, I see," Alchemy replied, somewhat relieved.
She turned to leave but the middle gypsy interrupted her.
"One moment, child," she said in a misty voice that put Alchemy in the mind of someone trying to sing in tune with the wind.

Alchemy stopped and turned around, watching the woman as she produced a pack of tattered cards.
"You have an interesting aura about you," the woman said "Pray, allow me to read your fortune and we shall both become enlightened to your destiny."
Alchemy barely took in a word of this but moved closer nonetheless.
"What am I supposed to do?" She asked.
The gypsy woman placed the deck on the table and took her hand away.
"Mix the cards with your left hand and concentrate on asking it about your future," the woman explained.
"'Kay."
Alchemy leaned forwards and mixed the cards around with her left hand, obeying the woman's instructions. Once she'd finished she moved the cards back together again in a neat pile and moved away.

The gypsy woman outstretched her hand and took the top card of the deck, examining it closely. The first gypsy man leaned to the side to look and sneered at her.
"Claravice, you were supposed to take the jokers out of the pack," he said mockingly.
"I thought I did," the woman called Claravice muttered.
Alchemy ignored this turn of events and moved back towards the bar, slumping down on a perfectly firm chair this time that had no chance of toppling over.
"What was that all about?" Remus asked.
"I have no idea," Alchemy muttered "Crazy gypsy stuff I don't understand."
Remus shrugged and resumed his professional duties of scrubbing whatever he had in his hand at the time.

The blacksmith's shop was small for a village such as Estolad, where at times horses seemed more numerous than people. Shadows from hanging lanterns danced upon the long wooden table that stretched through the middle of the room, and the lingering afternoon sunlight shone dimly through the east-facing door, outside which the blacksmith was working. The tables and benches were populated with an organized clutter of tools and metal, each seeming to have a specific and mysterious purpose. The tools themselves were sturdy and well-used by two generations of blacksmiths in this shop.

Rièle sat on an old wooden stool that was so tall her feet rested on a supporting peg instead of on the ground. She watched the shadows flicker across the table, and enjoyed the heat from the red-hot forge on the far side of the room. The blacksmith's hammer sounded outside with a rhythmic 'clink, clink' as he re-shaped the horse's shoes one by one. Every few minutes he would come inside to work the bellows and place one of the shoes in the fire, that the heat might help it bend to the proper shape.

Children's laughter could be heard outside, and Rièle knew that several boys were practicing swordplay out in the yard while the younger children watched. She couldn't see them, only the horse and blacksmith were visible through the door of the shop, but she pictured them in her mind as she listened and imagined them fighting great battles against evil foes and dragons.

Rièle wasn't the only customer in the shop. Two mercenaries were discussing business with the blacksmith as he worked, asking for improvements to their arms and armor. One stood outside, beyond Rièle's view, while the other leaned against the long wooden table near the door, smoking his pipe with his back to her. They paid her little heed, and she ignored them, content to watch the shadows and listen to the children outside.

She received a sleepy image in her mind from her horse, Jack, who stood patiently while the blacksmith hammered at the nails on his shoes and spoke to the mercenary. The image he sent was of a large pile of hay and a warm stall to sleep in. Rièle smiled, sending an image back as an assurance that she intended to feed him as soon as his shoes were done. Content with the response, the gelding drifted back into a doze.

It was another ten minutes before the blacksmith was finished. He called Rièle over, and she reluctantly rose from her warm stool and walked outside into the chill night air. The smith stepped back and allowed Rièle to inspect Jack's feet to be sure they'd been trimmed to an equal size and that the shoes were affixed properly. As she bent over to lift Jack's feet several children ran directly behind the horse and through the door of the shop, startling Jack and causing his head to raise in surprise. Rièle heard a door slam inside and knew they'd gone out the back, and was grateful of the bond she shared with the horse that allowed him to be less skittish than he would normally. The blacksmith shouted a warning to the children about being so reckless, but it went unheard as they continued their play.

As Rièle inspected Jack's feet the mercenary continued negotiating with the smith inside the shop. After several moments Rièle went back inside and interrupted their discussion briefly to thank the smith and pay him for his work. As she returned outside to mount her horse, however, she heard a commotion from the mercenaries inside the shop. "What's this? My purse is gone! It was on the table a moment before - thief!" The two mercenaries raced out the shop door and drew their swords, pointing their fingers at Rièle. "THIEF!" they shouted loudly.

Rièle panicked. She hadn't stolen anything! Her heart raced and she looked around frantically for a possible escape or for some explanation for the missing purse. But there was no one there except for the mercenaries, who charged her with angry expressions and drawn swords.

She quickly turned Jack and fled through the town, unsure what else to do and worried that if the mercenaries caught her they would use their swords and run her through before asking any questions. The streets were mercilessly empty of people, and she knew she needed help to keep the mercenaries from killing or hurting her long enough to explain that she hadn't stolen anything.

Kaima, she thought to herself, directing Jack there at a canter. The Inn was close by, and always had a large crowd at this hour of the evening. Jack couldn't manage a gallop in the close quarters of the town, and soon Rièle heard the hoofbeats of two horses following right behind her. She leaned over Jack's neck and encouraged him to run as fast as he could, but the tight turns and narrow streets of the town made it difficult, and the mercenaries easily kept pace with her.

They arrived at the front of the Inn within minutes, and Rièle threw herself off of Jack's back as near to the door as she could manage. She nearly fell as she landed, but managed to maintain her momentum as she sprinted up the wooden steps and opened the door. There was shouting behind her, and she heard the clattering of armor as her pursuers neared.

The door flew open, and Rièle was in such haste that she tripped on the last step and flew face first into a table just inside. Her shoulder and the side of her face slammed into the table, and she knocked over several beer glasses and plates of food. The mercenaries barged through the door just behind her, with shouts of "Thief!" and "Stop that girl!" Rièle tasted blood from her cut lip as she was yanked upward from behind, and felt the cool metal of a blade being pressed to her side.

Alchemy leaned on the counter, rocking forwards on her chair slightly, and watched the trio of gypsy's in the corner, muttering to one another about the strange occurrence that was Alchemy drawing a joker even after the woman had taken them out of the pack. Alchemy knew absolutely nothing about fortune telling, or any kind of gypsy magic, heck she didn't even know how to play cards let alone tell the future with them, so she paid absolutely no interest as to what the odd event would mean, besides she didn't believe in the supernatural anyway.

"Seems you gave those three something to talk about," Remus muttered to her, now serving a large mug of a brown frothy liquid to a rather drunk looking orc.
Alchemy shrugged and kept her gaze on the threesome.
"Like I said, crazy gypsy stuff I don't understand," she replied "Don't expect me to know what they're talking about."
She sighed and rocked backwards on her chair.
"Fairy 'nuff," Remus replied "But I'd at least be interested to hear what they've got to say before I wander off somewheres."
"They seemed a little preoccupied," Alchemy said "Plus, they didn't want to order anything anyway."
"D'they think they can stay 'ere for free or summin'?" Remus muttered "Blimey I hates people like them."

Alchemy sighed and resumed her rocking of the chair.
"Hm, there was something important that I was sposed to tell ya, but I can't remember what it is," Remus muttered, scratching his chin.
A sudden sound of splintering wood, a loud crash and a short yelp suddenly jogged his memory.
"Oh yeah," Remus said "That floor planks got wood-werm or summit, it's been sagging lately."
Alchemy merely glared at him, rubbing the back of her head.
"You're doing this on purpose!" She accused.
"I don't think my timing would be so good," Remus chuckled "Oh, I think they're wavin' you over."

Alchemy looked up at the bartender and followed his gaze. The dark skinned gypsy man was gesturing in her direction for her to come over. Alchemy bit her lip and moved out from behind the bar, moving over to where the threesome sat.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" She asked politely.
"You're a human right?" The gypsy man asked.
"Yes," Alchemy replied.
The gypsy man leaned closer to her.
"How comes you've got eyes like that then?" He muttered.
"Eye like what?" Alchemy asked, acting as though she had no idea what the man was talking about.
"Them eyes," the gypsy man said, pointing at Alchemy's face "Ever looking in a mirror? You look like a demon for cryin' out loud."

Alchemy's eyes went cross-eyed as she tried to get them to look at each other, however this was incredibly stressful so she returned them to their usual position.
"I'm sorry, I've no idea what you're talking about," she said "Good day."
She made to leave but was interrupted by the loud slam of someone falling over and smacking their head off a table. Alchemy froze where she was, unsure of whether to see what was wrong or not. Almost immediately after two soldiers burst in after the figure, yelling stuff like "Thief!" and that like. Alchemy watched this scene with mild curiosity and moved closer.

"Excuse me, is there something wrong?" She asked.
"Yeah," the first soldier said "She stole my purse."
Alchemy giggled.
"What's so funny?" The soldier demanded.
"You sounded like an old woman when you said that," she giggled.
The soldier growled under his breath and turned to face Alchemy. Quiet calmly Alchemy reached behind her and drew the blade of a long samurai sword with a rose calved into the blade. She held it to the guard's throat, an almost cheeky expression on her face.
"W-what the?!" The guard seemed shocked at the fact Alchemy had such a long sword hidden so well on her person.
"Could you let her go, please?" Alchemy said, quiet politely "I mean, if you go murdering people in here it's not going to be much good for our reputation, and not to seem selfish or anything but I'd kind of like to keep things the way they are."
The guard glared down at her, as he stared he could of sword he could see a fire burning behind her eyes, however the image barley lasted a second.

Lyon sat quietly at one of the tables in the Kaima Inn, alone and in a corner. He had become quite familiar with the small yet comfortable Inn due to his many treks between Lomedor and Ondolond. It's prices were cheap, and the drinks weren't half bad. Today, he was on his way to the Ondolond, only having begun his journey early that morning. He could've bypassed the town and still had daylight to continue on with, but he never would reach his destination before nightfall, so he had decided to stop and spend the day (and night) in Estolad.

So far, everything had been uneventful. He had traisped into the twon with little excitement, and immediately gone to the Inn, where he meant to make plans for the rest of his day in the domestic village. He ha dordered a glass of water, and was now sipping at it in thoughtful silence.

His attention had been on a young red-haired girl for the bulk of his time in the Inn. He wasn't watching her for any particular reason, he was simply slightly amused by her rushing back and forth to meet the demands of the many travelars passing through. He couldn't help but feel pity for her. What a boring job it must be, a barmaid. Lyon himself would hate having to stay in one place for so long. He liked to keep moving. Perhaps this was why he felt out of place in an Inn.

He withdrew his attention from her and began thinking about other things. He had seen a large number of mercenaries in town, a rather interesting thing to him, considering the fact that he was one of those mercenaries. He wondered if they were all in one troop, or freelance sellswords, like himself. He needed to talk to a few of them, see if they had heard of any prospective opportunities for mercenaries. Work was hard to find lately.

As he pondered these thoughts, his head drooped, and evntually, with an audible thud, fell down on the table. "Blast it," he muttered, as he jerked himself back up. "I shouldn't have forced myself to set out so early. Now I can barely stay awake..." Suddenly, the sound of wood being crashed into brought him into full awareness. His body tensed, and he turned his head around to see what was happening.

A girl had ran into the Inn, and had rather ungraciously tripped, causing her to slam headfirst into a table. Two men ran in after her, yelling "thief!". Lyon was instantly able to assume that they were mercenaries, judging from the way they carried their weapons. His interest in the situation increased as one of the newcomers pressed his sword into the girl's side.

This could get ugly, Lyon thought, wondering what would happen next. Only a fool comes between a mercenary and his money. The red-haired girl from earlier came over to see what the problem was. "Be careful, girl," he muttered, keeping a close eye on both men. One of the mercs and the barmaid exchanged a few words, and then another uexpected event happened.

A long sword, which Lyon knew to be the blade of a samurai, emerged from somewhere on the barmaid's person. Lyon gasped aloud, and his mouth hung upon, making him look somewhat foolish. Why in the name of all that was holy was a barmaid carrying a weapon? The two mercenaries seemed to be wondering the same thing.

After a few moments of thought, Lyon decided that he would include himself in these proceedings. Standing up, he walked over to the two men. coming to stand next to the barmaid, he said, quite calmly, "I really wouldn't suggest doing anything rash. If you ask me, it would be much wiser to search this lady for your money before you run her through with your blade. Otherwise, you might find yourself in a world of trouble for committing cold-blooded murder." He had said his part, and with a slight nod to them, attempted to turn around. Before he could sucessfully withdraw from the situation, however, the other mercenary, the one that hadn't spoken yet, jabbed at him with his drawn sword.

"Shut up, cretin," the man said. "No one asked you."

Lyon eyed the drawn blade with a mix if irritation and disdain. In his mind, he was thinking, Moron, what have you gotten yourself into?, while out loud he said, "I really wouldn't do that if I were you." His hand went to his own sword, ready to draw it in a moment.

Rièle winced as the point of the blade touched her side, and her heart raced for several moments as she contemplated that these mercenaries might run her through despite the large crowd of people watching. But before they could press her much harder a flash of flame-red appeared at the corner of her vision, and the girl to which the amazing hair belonged quickly drew a sword and confronted the mercenaries.

The mercenary who was holding Rièle released her, and she tentatively stood up and took a step away from him. Her thoughts were considering her options for escaping these men without getting herself hurt or killed. She could flee out the back, but the mercenaries were sure to follow her and Rièle knew that running would only make her appear guilty. Besides that, someone might stop her before she reached the door and then she really might get run through with a sword.

But were the mercenaries likely to believe her if she told them that she hadn't stolen anything? She didn't have anything but her own small purse on her person, and Jack wasn't even wearing a saddle so it couldn't be with him. Perhaps if she figured out who the real thief was and put them on his... but who could it have been? There was the blacksmith, but Rièle had known the man for years and didn't believe him to be a thief. The children could have snatched it as they ran through the shop... though she doubted this as well. Then whom?

A man then came to stand next to the red-haired woman, and confronted them. Rièle was grateful for the gesture, and noticed that the other people in the bar were starting to take interest in the situation as well. With all the eyes on them, and even though the mercenaries still had their quarry at swordpoint, Rièle could see tension on their faces. She felt much better knowing that the mercenaries would never get away with running her through without cause with so many people watching.

Tentatively, she turned out her pockets onto the nearest table. Her clothes were thin and fit her well, and there was little room for her to hide anything of much size. Still she pulled up her sleeves, so that the mercenaries could see that she wasn't hiding anything. "I didn't steal your purse," she said.

"The hell you didn't," the first mercenary responded. "She's got it stashed somewhere!"
"I didn't have time to stash anything!" said Rièle. "The two of you came running at me with swords the second I left the shop and then chased me through the town! If I'd slowed down, you would have killed me," Rièle spared the men a glare for this.
"Then who stole the money?" said the first mercenary. "Are you going to blame it on the blacksmith? Of course as soon as we go back and ask him I'm sure you'll be long gone from here."
Rièle thought for a moment. "The only ones in the shop were me, the blacksmith, his children, you... and him," she pointed to the second mercenary, who was still pointing his sword at the brown-haired man standing next to her.
As soon as Rièle pointed at the other mercenary, she knew her hunch was right. The man seemed to panic, and the first mercenary looked strangely thoughtful. "You!" he said to his companion. "Turn out your pockets!"
"Me?" the second mercenary replied. "Why should I? I didn't steal it. It's the girl that's done it. We just gots to get it out of her."
"Then let me see you haven't got it."
"No."
"You're lying! You did steal it!"
"I did not!"

The first mercenary lunged for the second, nearly barreling over Rièle in the process. She leapt out of the way and dove between several tables to hide from the impending fight. As she wasn't armed or armored and had no skills with fighting it would be useless for her to interfere, so she did her best to stay out of the way. A clash of swords and bodies ensued, and soon half of the Inn's patrons were involved in the fight.

Producing Vyri-Sys did seem to have an effect on the two mercenaries holding the girl, in fact the one currently holding her did even let go but kept her nearby. Of course the whole inn seemed to be focused on the peculiar situation before them, a girl in her late teens with bright red hair and eyes, having previously been serving drinks, was pointing a samurai sword at two mercenaries. Alchemy didn't notice the inn had gone silent until she took the trouble of looking around, her face portraying a curious expression.

Without her noticing, another man had stood up and walked over to her position, speaking to the soldiers himself, apparently under the impression that either he or Alchemy was able to cut them to ribbons. Alchemy bit her lip at the mere thought of cutting somebody up just because they accused somebody else of stealing. She gave the man a brief stare, noticing his hand wavering near a sword of his own. If she wasn't careful this would turn into a bar brawl and that was something she didn't want, mainly because she'd get her pay deducted if she took part.

Luckily though the woman seemed to have sense, she was turning out her pockets and pointing out the plain and obvious fact that there was absolutely nowhere she could have hid it. A wave of relief washed over Alchemy only to be shattered by the mercenaries response.

"The hell you didn't, She's got it stashed somewhere!"
This was almost enough to break Alchemy's temper, however she held her level of anger where it was, incredibly low, and carried on watching the events proceed. As it happened, taking this choice of action only ending up in the two guards beginning to argue with each other and consequently beginning to fight each other. Alchemy panicked suddenly, the outburst from the guard had started a small fight, but there were so many people already in the bar already that they took the opportunity to start rioting as well.

Remus merely sighed, rolling his eyes, and donned a domed helmet before ducking below the counter, he obviously had dealt with this sort of situation before. Alchemy stared around at the fighting, unsure of what to do. In a fit of desperation she slammed her sword into the nearest table, causing the assorted objects on it to shake and some to clatter to the floor.
"Stop it!" She yelled "You're not supposed to fight!"
The crowd froze and looked over at Alchemy, their eyes meeting the blade of the sword currently stuck in the wood of the table.

She looked down at the sword in her hands as though she'd only just realized she had it and then back up at the rest of the inn. She waved a hand nervously and put on an equally nervous smile.
"Oh, err. Don't worry or anything, I'm not an assassin or anything," she attempted to reassure them, however this merely got the crowds muttering and resumed what they were doing. Alchemy scowled and her cheeks began to glow red. She yanked Vryi-Sys out of the table and backed off, wondering what the heck she was supposed to do now.

Lyon stared calmly at the man that had threatened him with his drawn blade. He tensed, waiting to see what the mercenary’s next move would be. He wouldn't start a fight unless entirely necessary, but he doubted that this situation could end any other way. Angry mercenary plus stolen money equaled trouble. Some one was going to get beat up today.

The alleged thief was now emptying her pockets and rolling up her sleeves, showing the two men that she had no where to hide anything. She stated, quite simply, that she had not stolen the man's purse. Lyon was willing to believe her. She didn't have the look of a thief, and her voice was sincere, without a trace of treachery in it. She seemed to him to be someone in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her accuser, however, would not let it go so easy.

"The hell you didn't!" he shouted, rather violently. Lyon felt himself tightening the grip on his sword. The girl explained to him the only people that could have possibly stolen the money. It was difficult to follow since he didn't know the entire story, but when he heard her mention the other mercenary, he grinned to himself and nodded. It sounded like the kind of thing a cheap, dirty merc would do. The man's reaction proved his assumption.

The first mercenary seemed to have taken her idea to heart. He turned to his friend, and after a few words were exchanged between them, the first launched himself upon the other in a clash of blades. Lyon swore loudly and jumped back, his sword out in an instant. The two wildly swung their weapons at each other, and if anyone got too close, they would be cut down. "A busy Inn is no place to fight!" he shouted at them, but either neither heard him, or they chose to ignore him. He got the feeling it was the latter.

As if things weren't already bad, the Inn's occupants decided that this would be a perfect chance to let off some steam. They turned and jumped on their neighbors, and in a matter of seconds, an all-out brawl was under way. "How do I always get involved in these kinds of things?" he muttered to himself, extremely annoyed. He received no answer.

The sword-wielding red-haired barmaid looked mortified. She slammed her samurai sword into a nearby table and shouted for the people to stop. They fell silent for a few moments, staring at the sword embedded into the table. In a somewhat embarrassed state, she muttered something about not being an assassin, which caused Lyon to shoot her a sideways glance. He would have continued looking at her, but at that moment, a patron of the bar decided to throw a punch at him.

Lyon had never been good at hand-to-hand combat. However, neither was this civilian. Lyon easily caught the punch with his free hand and twisted the man's arm behind his back. Then, with a solid push, he sent the fellow flying into a table. The resulting collision caused the table to flip over, and the mugs that had been sitting on it fell to the floor and shattered on impact.

Frowning at the sound, he gave the barmaid a look, and, shrugging, he said, "Sorry about that." He then turned and watched, with a somewhat bemused expression on his face, the fierce battle that was going on all around him.

Rièle crouched under a nearby table, drinks and fists flying every which way above her head. A pang of guilt throbbed in her chest as she accused herself of being the cause of the trouble, but she gathered her common sense and tried to tell herself that it was the mercenaries who were at fault. In the back of her mind she felt the contented thoughts of her horse, Jack, grazing in a thick patch of overgrown grass outside the Inn. She sighed with envy. No only was it peaceful and serene outside but Rièle herself hadn't eating anything since late that morning, and her stomach rumbled slightly at the thought of food. The fight was still going strong, however, and she wondered when everyone would settle their differences so that she could crawl out from under the table and order something to eat.

The crash of a falling body into the table she was sheltering under changed her mind, and she decided that it would be a good idea to move away from the brawl. Quickly she darted away from the overturned table and benches and through the crowd. Somehow she managed not to get hit, though she did get knocked and bumped into numerous times. She passed the red-headed girl with the sword, and the brown-haired man who'd interjected with the mercenaries earlier. Both seemed to be holding their own well, for which Rièle was grateful.

On the far side of the room, closer to the bar, the rest of the Inn's patrons were gathering to avoid the fight. Most had brought their stew and ale with them, and were eating and drinking while the fight went on. Some were even commenting on the brawl, and taking bets for which fighters would get knocked out. They seemed to be in good spirits at least, and Rièle shuffled in behind them to take a seat on a barstool.

"What's your pleasure, Miss?" the bartender asked, unexpectly.
Rièle was notably surprised at the question, and turned her attention away from the fight to address the man. "You're still selling ale, with the fight going on?"
"Of course. Everything's in hand, my best girl's on the job. Can't let it hurt business now, can I?"
"I guess not...." Rièle still thought this was strange, but deferred to the bartender's judgement. She supposed he might sell more drinks with the fight, at least, seeing as almost everyone's was spilled. "I'll have an ale then, and some of that stew?"
"Coming right up, milady."

Soon Rièle joined the others, enjoying the Inn's most excellent ale and eating her stew while watching the fight.