He grinned, revealing a mouthful of white teeth, his voice laced with undisguised greed: "Or... do you have any special donations?"
The old merchant swiftly slid off the cart and walked briskly to the front of the soldiers' captain.
First, he respectfully handed over the transit documents stamped with the red seal of the Raymond Duchy, then magically produced two bottles of tempting amber mead from his bosom.
"Sir, you've had a hard time, coming in the wind and rain. This is just a small token to drive away the cold for you and warm the brothers' bodies."
He handed over the mead with a genial smile, lowering his posture significantly.
The bald captain unceremoniously tucked the mead into his own bosom.
The old merchant then lowered his voice, leaned in, and said, "I heard last month that a caravan only 'donated' twenty gold coins?"
