Friday night at Confessions was special for the residents of Matariel. Tired hard workers gathered together in the only tavern in the city for a couple of mugs of hot drinks under unobtrusive background music. And despite the comfortable and even friendly atmosphere, there were also those who rudely disturbed the peace of others.

"Enough!" John barked, setting his glass down on the bar with a loud bang. Rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt, he cast a displeased glance at the men who had drunk too much alcohol, left the counter, heading towards them: "How many times do I repeat that my tavern is not a place for your bickering?"

The owner of the Confessional was John Price, a man with a menacing look, but with a fair heart. In his opinion, everyone got what they deserved. Having pushed the violent visitors of his establishment to different sides, he put out both hands, not allowing them to approach each other again.

"Get the fuck out if you're going to keep acting like two drunken bastards," Price commanded loudly, waving his hand towards the door.

The men exchanged glances: being kicked out by the innkeeper himself is a terrible dream for every regular. Especially if you take into account the fact that John was the only one who owned his own car and often helped out the residents of Matariel by bringing something new from neighboring cities.

Finding an enemy in his person would be too rash a decision on their part...*

"Come on, John, we're not serious—" one of the troublemakers began to justify himself, but Price's hard look instantly made him shut up, raising his hands in silent surrender.

And then everything went back to normal: someone continued to drink as if nothing had happened, someone absurdly twitched his limbs to the music. The innkeeper took his usual place at the bar, watching the customers with a sharp eye.

The rest of the evening, which flowed smoothly into the night, passed quietly before the door to the tavern opened again.