A Pub of Plans

The door creaked opened and in stomped a band of rough-looking soldiers. There were six of them: all rugged and burly with indisputable evidence of untidiness about them such as missing buttons on there uniforms and grease in their hair and on their clothes. They carried standard rapiers on their belts, but they were as greasy and unkept as the owners themselves. Some were even chipped because of constant employment. Hannas glanced at them.

“Don’t pay attention to them, we have to talk,” said the Hubert. Hannas’s companion the Hubert, a quite remarkable and hairy creature, was sitting across from him at their table. The soldiers ambled over to the pub’s bar talking quietly. A few ordered drinks from the barman, a tall thin chap who then began to wipe down the bar. It was getting late. One of soldiers stood out besides the others. He was larger than the rest with a great brown beard and an air of command in his voice. His blue trimmed uniform and the way he walked with authority single him out from the bunch. An officer most likely, thought Hannas. And judging by there army array, these rough men were probably Wun soldiers. An officer and his subordinates off duty for the night. On the bit, not people to attract the attention of. The officer, who had been conversing in a low voice with his men, paused, stared straight at Hannas and then demanded in an ill-humored voice,

“And what do ya think yar lookin att?” Hannas shook himself in surprise. Ah, he stumbled over his words, rather startled that the soldier man was addressing him. The Officer glared at him. Ah, sorry, ah I ah I beg your pardon I mistook you for someone I know. Hanna’s short companion, the Hubert, stiffened, his hair bristling, and raised his eyebrows in alarm. “ Its not a good idea to stare at people like that,” barked the man, clearly irritated now, “ You might be suspected of being a Studder” Hannas, nodded and turned to face the watchful Hubert. The Hubert did not relaxed, he was ill at ease from the address. The man left, apparently his unfavourable interests in them had been satisfied and he appeared to be in want of a drink.

“We must be careful,” hissed the Hubert, trying to keep his voice low. That is one of Lord WontonGale’s men. Didn’t you see his mark! “We can’t have them knowing what were up too. “I have personally met Wontongale and seen how he trains his men,.....we must take care to avoid him.” The Hubert took a kun out of the fruit bowl with his three-fingered paw, and began chewing it slowly. He was slightly exasperated at both Hannas’s carelessness to conceal themselves and his unfamiliarity with the Hubert’s secretiveness towards other individuals. “ He’s the last person we would want to find out what were doing! Wontongale is powerful and would have any studder or anyone having anything to do with studders in irons.”

“Keep your voice down!” interrupted Hannas. A soldier turned from his drink to look at the Hubert. He continued, but lowered his voice,

“ We don’t want soldiers knowing what were up to, especially not Wontongale’s!” concluded the Hubert, wiping his face with his paw.

“I’m sorry,” said Hannas, “I was just too startled about that officer thinking we were Studders.”

“ Fine, but try not to attract anymore attention. You know thats the last thing we need” grunted the Hubert.

“ I thought he might know something about you know who. Do you think he did?”
“No he didn’t, Anyways, we should leave. Tis late” The two companions then left the pub into the twilight. It was after curfew and high time for them to get back to Pam’s before something else went wrong that night.