The question hung in the air for a few seconds. Ale splattered across the table, dripping onto their boots. A moment passed, then another, then yet another. Visenya looked confused, as she stuttered something not entirely legible. William smiled broadly, and drank deep in his tankard. Then, all hells broke loose.

William was shaken out of his daze by Visenya, who pushed him and his chair so that both made swift acquaintance with the wooden floor. He was about to say something before a rather large object was brought down on the table, held in the hands of a rather large northman. Splinters flew out every which way as wood met wood, showering everyone in the near vicinity with at least a few shards. Blood began flowing out of William's fingers, though in his drunken state he felt almost nothing. He could only watch from his poor vantage point on the ground as Visenya fended off multiple attackers at least twice as large as she is. Damn, the fairies took up another round of wild dance behind his eyes. Groggily, over the course of perhaps minutes, he willed himself into a sort of standing position.

"Stay close!" shouted Visenya over the commotion. She grabbed his arm and nearly imbalanced him again. William's mind suddenly clicked then, and he concluded that he should at least do something to help. He reached for his belt and began scrabbling around to find a weapon. Grumbling and cursing, he was finally able to slip the thin, long Bolton dagger from its sheathe. He waved it around, hoping that it looked menacing enough, and that certainly did the trick. Most people ducked away or pushed others to escape the potential bite of sharp steel, and the crowd parted enough for Visenya to drag the both of them through to relative safety.

Outside the tent was just as loud as the inside. At least ten voices were shouting for the guard, all of which translated in his head to an unbearable ringing. This was not helped by the arrival of men in clanking armor, at least a score, rushing onto the scene and into the tent.

"Don' let th' tent hitya ass on th' way in, yeah?" William mumbled to a guard, slapping him on the shoulder. This struck him with gales of laughter, and the guard gave him a steely glare before he charged in with the rest. The tent flap, however, did hit his back. William felt his legs give way, and only by leaning heavily on Visenya's shoulder with an arm wrapped around her did he barely prevent himself from losing a tooth or more to dirt and stone. "I think thas 'nuff wine ferr t'day," he declared, using his other arm to clumsily shield his eyes from the glare of the sun. He wasn't sure if the expression on her face was of mirth or annoyance.