"If you want company, she's available." The serving woman joked.
Marek looked away immediately and picked up his knife. "I'm not interested," he said flatly.
The woman's smile faded. She scoffed, a small sound of annoyance. "Suit yourself." And she walked off to tend to other customers.
Marek began to eat. The meat was tough and slightly burnt, the bread stale but filling. He chewed, barely tasting it. His thoughts drifted again to the journey ahead, oblivious to whatever noise was around him. The laughter, the argument, the clatter of dice and mugs, it became a background sound.
Three men walked in. They were large, broad-shouldered, and dressed in travel-worn leather armor. Each carried visible weapons. They looked like men who had done violence before and would do it again. Their sharp eyes moved across the room, scanning every soul with quick, assessing looks.
