Three stretch-carriages pulled up in front of a dignified local restaurant. The carriage doors opened, and dark-suited toughs disembarked from the first and last ones. From the middle emerged two toughs, followed by the team, looking jittery and nervous. They were followed by two more toughs, and a very well-dressed man in a flowing robe.

Lorarona felt a sharp blow to her shoulder; she whirled around to find the thin man leering at her. “Loosen up, toots!” he called out. “You’re perfectly safe here! No one’s going to attack you.” His face suddenly became grim. “Unlike your victims.”

The team found themselves escorted through the restaurant’s front door. Inside, they found a boisterous crowd enjoying old-world elegance. The smell of the food hit them like a morning star; pungent garlic, freshly prepared meat, and exotic spices buoyed their senses. Miles headed for the bar. “No, not here,” one of the toughs informed him. “We’ve got a private room, reserved just for yous.” His face fell as the team allowed themselves to be driven away from the crowd of patrons and toward a back room.

A long table ran the length of the room, benches on each side. As they were seated, the team found themselves separated from each other, a well-dressed tough on each side. The man in the dignified robe took a seat at the end of the table.

“Well!” he announced loudly, clapping his hands. “First things first!” The team noticed each of the toughs withdrawing a gold piece from their pocket, just as waitresses swarmed by, depositing tall mugs of cold beer. “Pay up!” growled one of the thugs as he elbowed Miles. “Service doesn’t come for free!”

Miles dug around for a gold piece. “That’s a lot for just a beer!”

The thug leaned in. “But it’s really good beer.” Miles stared back wide-eyed, then handed his coin to the smiling waitress, who ran her hand across his shoulders before leaving.

“A toast!” the robed man announced, raising his beer. “To our new friends!” The toughs clinked their mugs together, then took a large gulp. The team members nervously sipped their beers. Miles’ eyes shot open. “Wow, this is really good beer!” He took a larger gulp.

The robed man motioned toward Miles. “A man of discernment! Excellent!” He swept his hand with a flourish. “But where are my manners? My name is Jeles. I’m sort of the minister for this group – healing the sick, saving souls, that sort of thing. And who might you all be?”

Each team member gave their name and a short biography. Jeles smirked. “Adventurers, eh? On the cusp of level 4, even! Sounds like you’re doing very well for yourselves.”

“Well, we–” Clancy began. Jeles cut him off.

“But at our expense!” Jeles thundered. He stood up and leaned over the table. “You come into our neighborhood, beat up our friends, rob one of our establishments blind…and, what? Not so much as an apology?”

“We’re sorry!” Miles blurted out. “We didn’t know this area was under your protection.”

Jeles turned his smoldering gaze to Miles. “But of course you did. You saw our guys stop a purse-snatching in progress. That’s how we learned you were in our area.”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Miles looked down. “Oh…right.” He took another large gulp of his beer, nearly finishing the mug. A waitress plopped another mug in front of him. “Please, no more,” Miles begged. “I can’t afford these prices.”

“What are you talking about?” snapped the thug to Miles’ right. “That gold piece covered lunch and a few rounds of beer!” He looked indignant. “You think we charge a gold piece for each beer?” The table exploded into laughter as the team members shrunk into themselves a little more.

Jeles spoke up as the laughter died down. “Are you implying we run a low-class ripoff joint here? I must say, I’m deeply wounded by the insinuation.”

“Look,” Lorarona interrupted. “Let me apologize on behalf of the entire team.” She looked around nervously. “We’re not trying to be rude. We’re just a little out of our element here.”

Jeles motioned toward Lorarona. “But we’re just having a friendly conversation, and a hearty lunch! No need to feel out of place.”

Lorarona’s eyes flitted around. “I guess not. But–”

“Now let’s get something straight!” Jeles bellowed, pounding the table once. “This is our neighborhood! We run this place! If anything happens here, it’s because we said it could! We keep order; we protect the people! Do I make myself absolutely crystal clear?!” His fierce gaze swept over the table; the team members all nodded furiously. The waitresses entered with another round of beers, collecting the empty mugs as they did.

Jeles relaxed, and snickered. “Do I? Do I really?” He leaned in. “Why don’t I believe you?” He gestured to his cohorts. “You buying this?” They all chuckled menacingly; Jeles continued. “I mean, I’d like to think I’m really that persuasive, but frankly, I think you’re just putting me on.”

“OK, that’s enough!” someone shouted. All eyes turned to the source of the outburst, surprised to find it was Clancy. He gulped down the rest of his beer and slammed it on the table. A pretty waitress snatched the empty mug away from him. Jeles stared at him, his mouth hanging open slightly.

“I’ve been bullied quite enough in my life!” Clancy seethed. “And I don’t put up with it anymore.” He stood up. “I don’t know what your intentions are with us, but get it over with! I’ve had it with the false politeness act!”

No one spoke for a long moment. Then Jeles burst into hearty laughter, followed quickly by the rest of the toughs. “I like this kid!” he announced. “He’s got balls!”

Clancy suddenly found himself groped from behind by the pretty waitress, who had slipped her hand into his leather armor, and now gripped his manhood firmly. Clancy froze as he felt her squeeze, staring wildly into her eyes as she purred in response. “For a little man, he sure has a huge package,” she revealed before releasing her grip, leaving Clancy gaping.

“Kid, you wound me!” Jeles intoned, putting his hand to his chest. “Me and the boys just wanted to have a friendly chit-chat…just as long as you accept certain realities.” He leaned in. “But since you’ve appointed yourself spokesman for your merry little band, let’s get this show on the road. What do you say?”

“I’d be glad to,” Clancy announced. “I didn’t dominate at my school’s debate club by accident.”

“Wonderful!” Jeles trilled. “A worthy adversary!” He sat down again; Clancy did likewise. “I’ll let you have the first round,” Jeles offered. “Make your point.”

Clancy glanced around the table. All the toughs wore self-satisfied smirks; his team members looked terrified. He swallowed hard, then leveled his eyes at Jeles.