Trivial

On the upper floor of the Snakeraven inn, a fat merchant was angrily scoffing down an applenut pie while periodically ripping into some plump chicken breast with his bare fingers as he ate; he was ravenous, starting to shove them both down his gullet at the same time.

“How did we…” he had to chew and swallow “..miss the damn military escort!” slamming his greazy fist down on the table, Bertram’s face was red with anger as he yelled at Hess.

“S-sir. They came in the night while we were sleeping and left before lunchtime… there was no way we could have -”

“No way?! No fucking way?! No excuses! We missed an opportunity to make some gold!”

After taking a sip of beer, he lowered his voice, but still sounded as angry as before as he spoke in a deep, cunning voice.