Korant joins us

Korant looked at me. It was the most hesitant I had ever seen him, but he simply nodded.

“Aye, my prince,” he replied in his usual gruff voice, “a tankard of ale won’t hurt anyone. Besides, the night elves have a strong garrison here. I don’t think we’re in any sort of danger.”

I smiled back at him, appreciating his willingness to join in the drinking. The dwarves treated drinking as a rite of passage. You didn’t drink, you didn’t get to be part of the group!

We were only meant to drink one or two tankards before going to sleep, but we soon found ourselves downing a fifth, then a sixth... Our laughter became increasingly raucous and the dwarves kept slamming their tankards and fists on the table whenever a good joke was told. Were I more sober, I probably would have noticed the frustrated stares coming from the barwenches.

The dwarves noticed the barwenches, but for a... different reason. Every time they brought a round of ale over, a dwarf would pinch their ass or run a hand up their thighs accidentally. Finally, the innkeeper couldn’t take it any longer.

“No more ale for you! Go upstairs, you drunk pigs, and sleep it off. You’re lucky you’re diplomats or I’d report you to the town guard!”

The dwarves just found it extremely funny though they did comply.