Early morning in Craftsmen District. A crack of breaking wood. A window destroyed. A slam of a body hitting the cobbled road in front of The Fletcher Inn. A cry of pain at the rough landing. Gasps of local folk. A tall figure with strange hair exits the inn through the crumbling window and kicks the squirming body in stride. He mutters something in a foreign tongue and spits sideways, saliva missing his long mustache only barely. The one on the ground tries to unbalance him by grabbing him by the leg, but it only makes the big one start kicking the prone man repeatedly, followed by a barrage of curses, cusses and insults. The last kick is directed at his jaw and blood splatters onto the street. Teeth make a rattling sound as they roll down the street. Onlookers step back from the scene.

The murmuring of the gathered crowd is pierced by a voice from within the inn, clearly shouting at the tall man. "What are you doing, you stupid easterling?! Who is going to pay for all this damage?!" The man fumed, ready to throw chunks of broken wood at the brute, blinded by frustration.

Unfazed by the words of the innkeeper, the big one crouches by the now toothless, unconscious body and yanks the coin purse off, ruining the pantaloons in the process with a loud rip. He shakes out the coins into his hand, throws the purse away and collects ten gold coins. He then tosses them toward the innkeeper. Though surprised, the shouty man still manages to catch them. Then, the tall one bellows out to him. "To cheat Strogobor at cards is one thing. To admit him that is another thing. Neither ends well. Relay that to other patrons."

Strogobor places the rest of the coins into his pocket, walks up to his horse in front of the inn and unties her. And then, he walks down the street like nothing happened, guiding the mare through the city. He pats Wojda twice as they go and begins whistling a tune of a battle song he used to sing when his people went to war.