Ameiko's face look sours as the Ulfen bard staggers in, his useful spell unable to cover up the more physiological effects of the previous night. "Well that depends, Eirik," she states deadpan, "on whether you can pay the stabling fee."

"It's only a silver a night, but I don't think you've had your complementary oats and brush down yet. And before you go asking how I know, just who do you think dragged your sorry rear into the stall?"