Aeron was about to fire back a witty reply when a stumbling dwarf crashed into their table, nearly knocking over the drinks. He straightened, his step uneven and his eyes unfocused. The dwarf locked eyes with Aeron. “What’s this, an elf in a dwarven bar?” he muttered, his words tumbling over one another. He leaned heavily on the table, a mix of confusion and distaste in his eyes. “It’s because of your kind’s twiggy nature we can't drink outside anymore.”

  “Well, better a twig that can hold his liquor than a tumbling stump. ” Aeron said, before slowly draining his glass.

  The drunk dwarf's face grew hot, “I could snap ya like a twig!” He tried to climb over Seamus to reach Aeron, kicking into the air and spilling Seamus’s beer. The liquid formed a dark pool on the table, soaking into the wood and dripping on the damp cellar floor.

  Seamus pushed the drunk dwarf off, “I warn ya, walk away.” He had placed his hand firmly on the haft of his half-hidden axe.

  The drunk dwarf wasn’t listening. He reached for his own axe, but got tangled in its holster and nearly toppled over. He glared at a group of smoking druids at a nearby table, their faces obscured in a thick, curling smoke, their reddened eyes watching the commotion. “And what are you looking at?” he shouted.

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  A firm hand grabbed the back of the drunk dwarf’s coat. Beathag, the barmaid, a dwarf with a no-nonsense demeanour and iron grip, yanked him upright. “Knock it off, Kegger. If you can’t keep your hands to yourself, you can find another place to drink.”

  Kegger grumbled but didn’t argue. He stumbled away and disappeared within the crowd of the smoke-filled bar. The barmaid turned to Seamus, her tone flat. “And you, Seamus. I warned you not to get your axe out in my bar. This isn’t the old days. We keep the peace here. Be good and I might get you another ale.”

  “It’s not out, Beathag. Look, still in its holster. I am just resting my hand.” Seamus answered. But a stern look from the barmaid made him cover it again with his coat. “Wasn’t planning on using it, just trying to make a point.”

  The barmaid didn’t seem convinced but let it slide. Instead, she leaned in closer and slipped a folded note into Seamus's hand as she mopped up the spilt beer. She gave a knowing look to Aeron before resuming her duties as if nothing had happened.

  Seamus unfolded the paper under the table. The runes were brief: “Elf, black hair, brimmed hat, blue dress, robins, 5 min.”