7th winter Evening.
It was crowded in the tavern. And noisy. People were huddled around tables, cards were being passed, dice rolled, and general joviality tainted with the pain of loosing Miza's echoed through the air.
It was not the kind of establishment Milartek usually frequented. Its not that he openly disproved of gambling, more that he didn't think it was necessary. Why did you have to have the risk of loss to make something exiting? What was so interesting about card games and dice games.
The concept of relying on chance and luck really didn't appeal to him. It didn't bode well to leave things to chance. One should always aim to be in control and train to be able to control the outcome. He hated the idea of not being in control of something he did. Another reason why betting did not appeal.
Still it was clear that many people did and it payed for his employment. Let them spend there Miza's how they liked as long as he got payed his.
Gene the man that had given him the job introduced himself earlier that day when Milartek had come to ask what time he was needed, and given him a list of his duties. He was to look mean and discourage any violence outside of the cage. Also patrons that forgot about the houses cut were to be 'reminded' by him if needed. However he as not to kill or permanently injure, that would be bad for business. Bruises and a bloody nose was fine, stab wounds were not.
He wasn't sure how he felt about his role. Yes it was more interesting than running errands or labor, but how did he feel about helping facilitate the more 'sinister' goings on.
He was distracted then by a man shouting out in disgust and the sound of a chair being pushed backwards screeched through the already noisy tavern. Milartek had been leaning by the bar and Gale nodded at him.
"Go and make sure things get settled".
He nodded and pushed himself away from the bar. He stood to his full height, pushed his shoulders back, in an attempt to make himself look more threatening. He squeezed through a gap in two tables, only one person scooting forwards to help him through, and made his way to the table that the irate man was still stood at.
The man was short, balding, and in need of a good wash. He was leaning on the table with both hands and spitting with rage, accusing another grubby looking man opposite him of switching the cards. Milartek approached from behind, the man so unaware that he was able to get close to him and tower behind him.
HE cleared his throat loudly and the man spun round initially looking straight ahead in line with Milarteks abdomen. His head slowly craned upwards the look of drunken rage mixed with confusion and a little fear.
"Is there a problem here gentlemen?"
He immediately regretted asking as both men involved started speaking simultaneously, getting louder and louder over the top of each other. The other men on the table looked at each other shiftily, and the observant fellow would have noticed some take from the pile of Miza's that had been the bet in the middle of the table.
That shyke merchant must of had a card up his sleeve, there was no way he could have had that hand!
Oh no I didn't you short oaf, you just can't stand loosing your money!
At least My money is my..
Don't start that again you know I.....
Oh now your making excuses, well let me tell you something!.....
Milartek sighed. Why had he given them chance to speak? Gene had told him to deal swiftly otherwise anarchy was likely to ensue. He should have just dealt with it without question. None of the table seemed to pose a physical threat, they were all ageing and clearly the alcohol had been flowing.
The two had now turned to face each other, going red in the face through yelling. He glanced at his new boss, who clearly wasn't amused with the raucous it was causing. If arguments were not seen to be dealt with efficiently people would start pushing their luck. He had to deal with it now.
