Lucien hated dealing with adventurers. Oh, the more easygoing ones were a steady source of income, always needing pack animals and riding steeds for trips out to the Castle Greyhawk ruins, but the worst of them barged in and ordered him about like they could just take what they wanted. The city had strict laws protecting the merchant class from all manner of threats, including spells, but that still hardly put stable masters like Lucien on equal footing with men who could shoot fireballs from their fingers, or wielded magic swords.
But the worst of them had to be the lunatic who was destroying his stables right now. He had chopped through the support pillar of his hayloft with a single swing of his sword! And now the man was babbling about needing to fight something that was not even there. "Adventurers," they called themselves. Surely this Castle Greyhawk just turned them into madmen!