"For Her Majesty, cheers!"
The collision of glasses spilled amber-colored liquid.
In the Miner's Tavern, a group of miners with coal-dusted faces and reeking of sweat were cheerfully drinking, alleviating the day's toil.
A young man in slightly antiquated silk attire pushed the door open and walked in, the bell ringing crisply.
The bartender pointed to a sign beside him, "Mate, this is the Miner's Tavern."
"Not serving other guests?"
"Of course not, just..."
The bartender looked at the guest's fancy attire, which seemed worlds apart from the miners nearby. What was such a big shot doing in his stinking tavern?
If anything happened, his tavern could not bear the responsibility.
The man sat down by himself, smiling as he said, "That's good then."
The bartender felt helpless, thinking, haven't you noticed your presence has quieted my little tavern significantly? These miners aren't ones to mess with. By this moment, who knows how many have their eyes on this fat lamb.
