The plates in front of Henry and his companions were nearly empty, yet the mercenaries' conversation remained as boisterous as ever. They seemed completely lost in their own world, oblivious to the disapproving glances cast their way.
The other patrons in the tavern began to grumble under their breath. The mercenaries' clamor had shattered the tavern's otherwise peaceful atmosphere.
While it was a tavern, it was a relatively high-end establishment. Its clientele consisted of the wealthy and the noble.
Henry gently set down his cup and shook his head, displeased by the mercenaries' boorish behavior.
'It's not that I've gotten a big head now that my station is higher, or that I'm putting on high-society airs,' he thought. 'It's just that no one likes noise.'
