Yes

The pair drive out of the city, with one of the guards nodding in greeting to Faldor. It's clear they know him, so he, and by extension you, can pass without issue. Hal turns as they pass through the gate, glancing at the large curtain wall surrounding the city. It stands at easily twenty feet tall, with drum towers spaced out. From the ground, he can only just make out the archers stood guard atop the towers. The area surrounding the outside of the gate was once open meadows, but of recent years it became something of a peasant's marketplace, with countless shacks and stalls, selling anything from vegetables to stolen jewellery, and all that's in between.

"Be careful if you visit the market here, lad." Faldor says "If you don't keep your wits, you're like as not to get your pocket picked."

"I see." Hal says "I'll keep an eye out, then."

Faldor smiles, and they continue on their way. The city streets are cobbled, and the same cobbles stretch a hundred or so feet out of the gate, but before long the road turns to grit and dirt. Their path takes them south, in the direction of Warden Forest, a large, decidious stretch of woodland, with a reputation of being home to both excellent beehives and bandits alike. The barkeep reaches into his satchel, handing Hal a strip of salted meat, then taking one for himself.

"Thanks, Faldor." Hal smiles, whilst still keeping his eyes on the treeline in case of ambush.

"My pleasure, lad. It's not far now. I'll warn you, the brewer is a rather... odd fellow."

Soon, the road leads them to a large wooden three-storey building, smoke billowing from the chimney. Faldor pulls the wagon into position, before climbing off, followed closely by Hal. The door to the building opens, revealing a short man, maybe five feet tall, with a bald head and a braided grey beard.

"Faldor! You 'ere for yer ale?" The man's voice is deep and gruff, but warm and welcoming. "Got ya a special barrel of mead, fresh honey in it."

Faldor nods in greeting. "Aye, Azzec. This is Hal, he's here to help guard, and do the heavy lifting with the barrels."

The man, who's name Hal now knows is Azzec, looks the ranger up and down a few times before grunting in approval. "Got a ranger to protect ya, then. Good."

Hal smirks, trying to hide his pride behind an air of confidence. "Where are the barrels?" He asks

"This way," Azzec says. "Keep the finished product in the outside storeroom. Tell me, ranger, you want to try my new recipe?"

Hal nods "Sure,"

Azzec grins, quickly heading inside to get some of the new recipe.

"You're going to regret that, lad" Faldor chuckles.

"Why?"

"Azzec is half dwarf, I'd put money on this 'new recipe' being the strongest thing you've ever drank."

Hal laughs "I'll be fine."

Azzec returns, a small wooden cup of brown liquid in his hand. He offers it to Hal, who takes it, sniffing it curiously. It smells of oak, with a hint of fruit and spices. Shrugging, Hal takes a sip, before coughing as the brown liquid burns his throat. "What the hells is that?"

The half-dwarf laughs "Whiskey, lad! It'll put hair on yer chest."

Hal tries not to cough again as he hands Azzec the wooden cup back. "It's... strong." He mutters, before walking into the storeroom to pick up Faldor's order. It takes about an hour, but soon the back of the wagon is full of ****, and Hal's body burns with exertion. He groans, glancing at Faldor and Azzec, who are both sat, drinking the half-dwarf's whiskey. "I'm done" He calls out, leaning on the side of the wagon.

"Good job, lad." Faldor says, standing and walking over. "Let's head back before it gets too late."

Azzec grins at the two "Good to meet ya, Hal. Come back any time, ya can taste whatever I brew next."

Hal smiles "I might just do that"

Both the barkeep and the ranger climb on the box seat, and Faldor flicks the horse's flank with his whip gently, starting them on the journey back to Wardhurst. "With any luck, lad, we'll have a journey back as uneventful as the way here." He say, though Hal is not convinced they'll be that lucky.