07/ Briefing

My heart feels no joy to meet you here, the deep and sombre voice of the Barbarian woman growled over the tavern's banter. Deep inside, Peine winced but thought better than to let emotion show on her face. She looked to the side, fondled her glass uneasily, and took a sip.

She did not know what was worse. Having to fraternize with a band of outlaws utterly unwilling to have anything to do with her were it not for the gentle but relentless persuasion that came with them owing her? Or drinking what passed off as a beverage in these parts? How she yearned for only a sip of the famed wines of Londres! Her countryfolk would be preparing themselves for the first harvest, ready to pluck the first grapes from the vines, still sour and refreshing, the early fermentation resulting in a sugary sweet wine that tasted like heaven coated in honey.

Douce coughed politely, returning Peine to the sour reality of the rundown tavern in which they were sitting.