“Arik, did ya’ hear about Ooryg, the fat-faced brick-carrier, aways sittin’ at the small table by himself? Arrested by that ex-army sergeant and his friends, and I hear Konin that dwarf smith was with them too.
What’s that Arik? Oh, you know the crime for stealin’ horseflesh is swinging, ever since Alfred ruled that stealin’ military property is considered high treason, and punishable by death. There’ll be no sailing for that man, if I had to lay a bet. No, I don’t know what happened to his Clanless partner. Hear tell that those outta towners tracked them over rough ground and through water, killed ’em all dead at night, except the one they saved to peg Ooryg for a thief. Smart lot, those boys.
‘Course, the milita would have spent a tenday bumbling through the woods, most likely woulda gotten themselves killed in the process. Honest boys, but not veterans from the Wars of Pacification like me and you. Tough days, those were…beating on the Clanless and burning villages. Let’s have another drink, and talk about that…"