Yes

I turned around to my dear maid and whispered in her ear.

“Please, Agnes, this is important! I’ll make sure my sister doubles your salary!”
“But, my prince, they’re dwarves...”, she took a deep breath, then whispered back in my ear. “...they are... primal when they drink, my prince. They have no boundaries, and they say a drunk dwarf’s appetite for... physical pleasure is thrice that of a man. We won’t just be drinking ale in there.”
“That’s just silly talk, Agnes! Plus, if they try anything unsavoury, I’d just intervene, don’t worry!”
“Are you sure, my prince?”

I gave her a reassuring nod and she gave acquiesced, following me into the dwarf’s chamber, very much to his joy.

Inside, we saw the rest of their merry band. Four in total, they were all drunker than Theramore sailors and in various states of undress, their heavy tunics cast aside as they roared with laughter over a cluttered table.

“A toast to the prince and his bonnie maid!” the emissary bellowed, slamming a massive wooden tankard onto the table and shoving two overflowing cups into our hands.

The first hour was a blur of burning throatfuls of Stonetalon ale and boisterous gambling games. They taught us “Stone-Cracker,” a dice game where every loss demanded a heavy swallow. I played poorly while Agnes sat close to my side, her initial unease slowly dissolving into a flushed, giggling compliance under the influence of the potent ****.

As the second keg was tapped, the atmosphere shifted from merry to intensely charged. The emissary leaned heavily across the table, his eyes locked onto mine with a sharp, drunken intensity.

“Games are done, lad. Time for a proper dwarven challenge. A test of endurance.”

He slammed a smaller silver chalice down, filled with a viscous, shimmering gold liquor that smelled faintly of wild honey and raw heat.

“Winner claims a prize. Loser... pays a forfeit of the flesh.”

Before I could ask what the forfeit meant, one of the larger dwarves moved up behind Agnes. With a deep, rumbling chuckle, he slid a thick, heavily calloused hand onto her thigh, squeezing firmly. Agnes let out a sharp gasp, her eyes wide as she looked at me - confused, somewhat breathless, her skin crimson from the drink and the sudden, bold touch.

“Aye,” another dwarf grunted, slamming his hand on the table with a smirk that dared any to challenge him. “Let’s see if royal blood can handle the true spirit of a dwarven alliance!”