The bastard, thought Murich. The two faced bastard. Just lost his job and heres this tall tub of shite rubbing in the salt. Murich, to drunk to know any better, decided to show him up.

"Eee, thas good Herg. Jus as well cos I wuz wannin to talk to ya. See I lost me job today. Part o tha.. ", Murich struggled with the words, "Enta-the-prize-bar-gain-agreemen-thingy. See, wot I wanna know Herg is why? What makes me less than you, say?"

Some took their breath in sharply. Others chose not to chance drawing any attention.

A grin split Herg's head in half, like a bearded axe wound. It was the same grin witnessed on hungry ogres blocking the only exit.

"That's simple Murich. You've not followed the rules before. You've hurt Suiddock and even though we were understanding in the past, a payment was figured and taken. Feel lucky you still have all eight of your fingers."

Murich clutched his right hand defensively. "All lies, lies an you know it. How was I too know that Bretti ain't got the right papers?"

Herg's expression dropped like a stone. He brought up his right hand as if to brush off a speck of dirt from his shoulder.

"Are you calling the Guild master a liar Murich?"

Murich's fear finally won its battle and a sudden clarity of thought arrived with it. "N-n-no, all I'm saying is."

Herg the Hand lashed out with speed unbelying of his size. A set of knuckles covered in rough, leathery skin scraped and smacked their way across the side of Murich's head, knocking him to the floor. Lights swam across his vision, he was too dazed and drunken to cry out in pain.

"You would be best told to watch your tongue about the guild Murich". Now the real message was delivered, but not for Murich's sake.

Everyone knew that to expel members from the guild was a delicate matter. Proof and reason were demanded to convince people that wrong had been done to them. In the past, Murich had unwittingly partaken in night labour not approved by the guild, scab work. Though he had been able to demonstrate his innocence, a seed of doubt had remained in the heart of his fellow dockworkers. The recent deal with the Directorate had given the guild its chance to remove those who drew doubt and brought disunity into the guild.

The list was short, but Murich had ended up on it. The fact that he was an ex-patriot Imperial didn't help. Herg leaned in closer, right down to Murich's red and swollen ear.

"Lock your tongue Imperial, you are very close to death".

Murich knew that at this range he could plunge his dagger deep into Herg's eye socket despite his stupor. If it wasn't for the fact that he was sitting on the hilt with his limbs in a tangle, and the fact that he was a stuttering coward at heart, he would have signed both
their death warrants then and there.

Herg stood back and took in the hall with a sweeping glance.

"Who here can say that some didn't have it coming? Eh? Who can say that a scab or outsider deserves to stay over a born and bred Suiddocker with a family and children to support? Who would rather throw out family rather than a stranger? Who?"

The crowd stirred and started voicing its affirmations. Some pointed out Herg's wisdom to each other, others raised their mugs in Herg's direction.

"Why give me the boot?", Gerk had raised his head from his glass at last and addressed Herg directly. His posture had not changed though. He sat unmoving and relaxed in his chair, unafraid.

Herg looked at Gerk and a scowl crept across his face. The sight of Gerk's deadpan expression had halted Herg's words and he had to hide the fact. The tension between the men started to grow. Murich gazed at the scene, his throbbing head forgotten. He had never seen or heard of Herg hesitating at any challenge before.

Herg continued quickly, avoiding Gerk's question. "If we are to keep on supporting ourselves and each other, the guild must expect, no, demand loyalty. Loyalty to the guild is loyalty to Suiddock. And that is all that protects us."

The crowds mood broke and followed on the heels of Herg's words. Nodding heads and raised voices broke out like a rash amoung the onlookers. Gerk leant down towards Murich's stricken form.

"Time to go, or we will not escape a brawl."

Murich nodded inside his own world of pain and dizziness. Uneasily he stumbled to his feet. Gerk's hand slipped under his arm to support him, surprisingly steady and strong. Together the pair made for the door. Herg's voice rang out again over the room.