The stockade buzzes with activity the day after the Merchant Princes' arrival. Hiring for miners has been frozen, and guards are being shifted towards the mine. All work has stopped following the inspection tour by the Merchant Prince. Rumors run rampant through the town, some speak of a shaft cave-in, others that a buried plague was uncovered from a terrible blight from aeons ago, some whisper that a gold vein was found amongst the zinc ore. At the Barking Spider guards pile in to escape the heat and toss back a few cold beers before they return to their barracks.
Soon they begin to talk boisterously, "That Company man, did you see the iron in his eyes! I swear, he nearly had Gerol pissing himself when he caught him dozing. I heard he's been sent to the kitchens as a dish-washer. Do the same to you if he catches you!" The Guards mate laughs loudly, "You know, we're all better off for that. I once saw Gerol drop his practice sword while picking up his shield. To think they ever took him as a guard. Those Southerners, they're all lazy and soft." "Not all of them," his companion counters, "I saw Beran nearly run a man through with his practice blade the other day. Hit the poor sap so hard he broke a few ribs! They say Beran used to be a Sergeant in the army. Wonder what noble whore-son he pissed off that he felt he should move north."
In another corner of the public house another group of guards talk in furtive whispers occasionally glancing about. They are covered in road dust, and something clearly has them spooked. One of them leaves out the back door while the others stay behind.
