The door of the tavern trembled, and the noise of conversing and clinking cups struck Rangbang's ears, making him unable to resist scratching the itchy earholes.
In the dim light, sitting behind a greasy fir table, Liborole waved his dye-worker hand with ragged fingernails at Rangbang: "Here, sit here!"
Rangbang took off his wool vest and sat next to Liborole, who pounded his shoulder: "Why are you so late? What were you up to?"
Pulling the sleeve of his linen shirt to hide his arm, Rangbang's eyes were a bit evasive: "I overslept."
Liborole eyed Rangbang up and down but didn't call him out, instead he stood up proactively: "Come on, let's toast to our supreme duo of tribunes and popular representative Rangbang! His proposal on reducing the Dead Hand Tax not only passed but passed overwhelmingly.
On the basis of Rangbang's representation, His Majesty Horn has reduced the Dead Hand Tax to nothing. From now on, our farmers no longer need to pay the Dead Hand Tax!"
