The Guarded Inn was frequented by some less-than-savory characters, among whom one of the worst was currently Irina, decked out with rings of power braided into her blonde curls and seven-league boots strapped onto her feet.

Matvei’s favorite dream was one about running a smithy somewhere in the Finger Mountains with only a beloved wife to keep him company. He went to bed early so that he could think about it without distractions.
Irina came in at nearly midnight with a little alcohol in her veins.
“People will bet the most interesting things at this bar.” Her speech was bubbly but not slurred. Matvei groaned and rolled over in bed.
“One gentleman, for example, put a live ferret in his stakes. And another put up his shirt and shoes. And a third… well, a third put up some very interesting items.” Irina pulled off her dress and slid into bed with Matvei. He sighed.
“Get in your own bed.”
“How about you sing me a song, bard?”
“I don’t sing unless Rus makes me.” Matvei replied, intensely uncomfortable with having Irina that close to him. She ran her fingertips across his back.
“If the bard doesn’t sing, what DOES he do?” Irina gave a little giggle.
“I make a mean horseshoe.” Matvei said staunchly. Irina kissed his shoulder blades.
“Don’t you have a true love somewhere?” Matvei asked, quite cross at being thus disturbed.
“You believed that?” Irina tried to slip her hand up Matvei’s shorts. He yelped and kicked Irina.
“Those are MINE.”
“I’m a thief. I take whatever I want.”

“Ah… the game of kings.”
“Game of whores.”
“Do you want to play or not?”
“Roll, you thieving bastard.”
“Six and six.”
“Four and two.”
“C’mon. Take something off.”
“This game should have been called Getting Naked Fast.”
“My brothers called it… something like that. Quit stalling, it’s not like I haven’t seen you without a shirt before.”
“Fine. Roll.”
“Four and five.”
“Same.”
“Roll again. I’ve got… three and five.”
“You wench.”
“C’mon, Eva.”
“Three and four.”
“Ha! Hand over your trousers.”