Milligan wrapped his cloak tighter around him as he walked into town. Music and voices from the tavern echoed down the street. He smiled as he swung open the door.
The cacophony was deafening, but Milligan was used to it. He walked through the room to the counter.
"Care to try our new special tonight, Milligan?" the bartender asked. "It's duck basted in white wine!"
Milligan laughed. "As if you could get your hands on a drink that expensive, Dobson."
The bartender grinned and nodded. "Even if I could, I'd never waste it on a duck!" He wiped his eyes. "What'll it be today, Milligan?"
"I'll take some of that mead."
Dobson nodded. "As always." He filled a mug and set it on the wooden table in front of Milligan.
"Thank you." the miller said, and took a long drink.
"I've got other customer's to care for, but I'll get back to you." Dobson said, sliding away.
Milligan nodded a goodbye. Just as he left, another man stumbled over to him.
"Say, it's Milligan!" the man slurred, his breath stinking of alcohol.
"Been drinking a bit, Terry?"
Terry laughed. "Just a little bit. I was just admiring your cloak. Looks like gold from over there, but wheat up close. Which is it?"
Milligan smiled and decided to humor him. "Both."
A nearby soldier stopped talking to listen. Milligan continued. "My daughter wove some extra wheat into a golden cloak."
The soldier turned. "Your daughter weaves wheat into gold?"
Thinking him drunk also, Milligan nodded. "That she does. Magical young woman, she is."
The soldier didn't answer, simply stared. Feeling uncomfortable, Milligan stood up. "Best be going now," He said, "She's waiting at home."
The soldier nodded, and Milligan hurried out, wondering just how drunk the soldier had been.