Little pieces getting into place

It's not that Me'tha was all that atypical of his race, but he was an elf. "Arrogant, condescending, pompous ass," TB muttered to himself. Not that he really minded. If Me'tha wasn't so stuck on himself, he might have been a much sharper trader, and that was the important bit, wasn't it? After all, he didn't mind the work, but he expected to get paid well for it.

"George, Lenny."

The two hobgoblins drew themselves up into a fair approximation of attention, Lenny's fisted salute a bit extra, clanging fiercely against his helmet.* "Yes, boss?" asked George.

"Let me make this clear." TB spoke slowly and simply. "This visit is important. As in expensive. Me'tha wants us to organize an expedition, and he refuses to tell us what for. Which means that both my price went up, and it must be important, as he didn't even blink."

TB avoided speaking the exact numbers that he had used. Not that he was particularly worried that George and Lenny would demand a raise (they had trouble with numbers higher than ten with their shoes on) but on general principles.

"Which means, I need you two to three things for me. Stand there, look menacing, and don't - say - anything. Got it?"

Lenny nodded. "Sure, Boss." George agreed, smiling. He was glad they got to do their menacing bit. It was a favourite.

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* TB barely noticed. It wasn't like Lenny was hitting something important. TB would have been, had he thought about it, more worried that Lenny had bruised his knuckles.

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Me'tha lounged in his carriage, taking up one side of it as he let the bumps in the road swirl the dregs of the wine in his glass. "Ah, finally, I can get started. With my knowledge and the application of some straightforward military force, I will have it in no time." He sighed. "Still it seems such a shame to have to use such brutish methods, don't you agree?"

The other occupant of the carriage said nothing, glaring at Me'tha.

"Oh, come now miss. Surely you don't feel under duress about all this. Between TB and his henchman, I'm sure you'll tell me where you came from. Seems almost a shame really." Tossing back the dregs of the wine in his glass, he upended the bottle, looking for a few more drops. "Alas..." He wasn't really expecting an answer though, with his companion bound and gagged.

"And once you tell me where you found a demi-god, the hunt will be on for one of the lost sceptres. After all, nothing but a sceptre would be powerful enough to give you such a strange form."

Rastilina sighed through her gag. Really, all she wanted to do was DIE. You'd think threatening to rob a fulling laden caravan, getting captured, and spitting in the face of their leader would be enough to ensure your demise in these ancient times. But nooooo....

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Up on the moon, the Princess grumbled as she gazed through her telescope. "Stop travelling already, and come out, Me'tha. Give me another view of your hunky body..."

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