"Next!" The clerk had just taken the beer mug and was turning to pour the drink when he realized the barrel was empty; barely a few drops came out even when he shook it.
"What's going on! Where's my beer?" The sailor sounded agitated; he had been waiting in line for quite some time.
"The barrel's dry, sir. Please wait a moment, I'll bring up more from the cellar right away." The clerk then asked tentatively, "Our tavern has a better kind of beer, just one copper coin a bottle. Would you like to try it?"
"Hurry up and bring it!" The man immediately slapped his coin purse, the clinking of coins making his meaning unmistakable.
Without further ado, the clerk turned and went into the back. When he re-emerged, he wasn't carrying a barrel or a mug, but a glass bottle fitted with a simple wooden stopper.
The tavern's beer wasn't the haphazardly fermented fruit concoction with only a slight alcohol content; it was a true brew made from barley.
