Wylam laughed and poured another ale at the nod of a village woman. If things kept up they would need a fourth keg very shortly. Nial wondered how long it would be until the harvest meal was ready. He turned to head towards he kitched but was stopped short by the palm of his wives hand.
"Back to your seat." Saraph said. "Wylam, pour him a drink. He frets so much about the harvest ale each year that i think he forgets to drink it."
Nial smiled and backed towards his seat, palms in the air. Wylam turned and gave Nial a full mug of Harvest ale.
"Bosses order." Wylam said.
"Respect! Did you hear what I said? No body respects the harvest these days." Nial inhaled the scent of his harvest ale deeply through his nose. "Something as beautiful as the harvest needs to be respected properly." He took a long drink from his mug and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "This is something to be respected." He lifted his mug into the air, gazed at it for a moment and then looked at the full room in front of him.
"What's that?"
"Respect! Serve the customers I said!"
Nial was mid song, holding his fourth Harvest ale, when the censor and his men walked into the inn.
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