The tavern roared with sounds of merriment and drunken banter. In the midst of it was Haleth. He may be the firstborn son, but that wouldn't stop him from having a good drink with his fellow warriors after a hard-fought battle.

"To Haleth for slaying that wildmen filth!" One of his friends raised his tankard high, followed by loud cheers and agreements from the rest.

"They were but dirt under my boot." Haleth remarked, leaning back in his chair. Except in his somewhat buzzed state he leaned a bit too far, and his chair began to fall backwards.

His body jerked, but then the movement stopped and he looked up, staring into the eyes of the one who had caught his chair to stop him from toppling backwards.

Wow.