A man in a coat and hat is dragging a reluctant woman in a Sunday dress down the length of the hall. The woodcarver stands up and removes his leather apron, revealing a shirt of chain links and an intricately carved wooden pendant in the shape of a bow and arrow. His smile at the sight of the woman turns to a frown at the gentleman at her side. Others look up from their work at similar tables to watch the well-dressed couple breeze past them
“You!”, roars the gentleman. “You did this to my Rosilla!”
The woman is pulled up short by her arm - the disarray of her raven hair and flush of her full cheeks seeming only to enhance her beauty. Her big blue eyes land on the woodcarver with a mischievous look.
Rosilla: “No! Don’t let him near me! He threatens everything!”
Woodcarver: “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Gentleman: “Have no fear, my dear. I won’t let him anywhere near you.” Turning to the woodcarver, the gentleman pulls off a leather glove, one finger at a time - then flings it directly in his face.
“Akiros Ismort - you have violated the virtue of my wife and I demand justice!”, he bellows.
The woodcarver’s jaw drops.
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