"Up!" came a shout from outside his door. Skári jerked at the order and sat up.
"Y-yes ma'am!" he sputtered. He could hear the landlady scoff at her new worker's squeaking and soon after, her heavy feet stomped away. Skári let out a breath of relief and got out of bed. The innkeeper a woman named Gunnhildr was not the most pleasant person he'd ever come across. She was short, even for a dwarf, with corse black hair which she kept in a bun and tired, snappish eyes that constantly burned holes into the poor lad whenever they cross paths. The only reason Skári would even consider working for such a woman were two very prominent factors:
This was the first thought Skári had that morning. It wasn't a thought he was particularly proud of, seeing as that the subject of those thoughts practically saved him from rape, but none the less, there it was. It was still very early in the day, and though Skári had the perfect opportunity to sleep in, he found that he could not. So he rose, before the sun did, even, but not to head straight to his duties. The longer he could stay away from that snarling boss of his, the better. Instead, he sat where he was, in bed, staring at the giant barbarian woman beside him. In his mind, he recapped last night's scene over and over again.
An elf, who had taken a shining to Skári, had offered Gunnhildr a decent lump of silver and gold for one night with the maindweller as a prostitute. And then, with no real reason or motive, the barbarian woman who had saved Skári from insults just moments prior offered an even grander sum of money for
This was her favorite spot. There were no customers yelling at her, no smoke in her eyes, and no thoughts but her own. But the real reason she went here was to see the great merchant ships, the ones from the New World. They lay before her on the river now, five or six abreast, scattering the sparkling water with their bulk. In between, she could make out the smaller craft, the nimble boats and lighters, that scurried between the wooden giants to navigate the river, handle cargo, deliver supplies or admit customs officers. The Pool, beneath the bridge, was as far as they could go upriver, so they moored at the docks, checked their cargo at the Customs House, and let their sailors have fun while they restocked and made repairs.