"Ser I am glad to announce we shan't go angry nor thirsty tonight!" Ser Marvy shouted, his head popping up with the sudden, sharp energy of a cock's crest.
He practically marched into the room, his arms wrapped around a small, iron-banded barrel of wine as if it were a rescued princess.
He brought it down with a heavy thud onto the oak table, the force of the impact sending a wooden plate clattering to the floor.
"How many are there?"
"Enough for us I gather," Ser Marvy replied, his voice brimming with a boyish, infectious glee. "You surely wouldn't expect to find enough vintage for a whole army in a village of what? A hundred peasants at most? This was the headman's private hoard, I'd wager."
''Did not see any graveyeards here or for a league in any direction''
''Must have bought it for personal use by a passing merchant,I'd reckon.''
