I'm a guest in this country. To show my appreciation of their hospitality, I rise to my feet, fling my arm round his shoulder and draw him close.
"You Samsarinans are not as bad as everyone says. Fine beer you have. Clears a man's head. You know, when I was on that boat I thought of packing it all in. Just let the Orcs walk over us. But now - " I take out my sword. The servant, possibly misinterpreting this, attempts to wriggle free. " -I'll chase these damned Orcs all the way back to the dirt hills they came from. Right after you've brought me more beer. Try using a decent sized tankard this time. And more food, damn it, don't you know how to treat a guest in this country? Where's Lisutaris? I'm her adviser, I should be advising her."
The servant hands me another flagon of ale, then leads me back upstairs, where he shows me into a reception room and asks me to wait. I'm in no mood for waiting. I march swiftly through the large door in front of me, arriving in a stateroom containing Makri, Lisutaris, Kublinos the Harbour Sorcerer, and a few others.
"We've wasted enough time on these pointless discussions!" I cry, banging my sword on the huge ornate desk in the middle of the room. "It's time for action! We need to organise an army and march back to Turai."
There's a brief silence. One of the men in the room, a beefy individual with blunt features and longish grey hair, looks at me in surprise, then turns to Lisutaris.
"Who is this?"
"My Chief Adviser," says Lisutaris, wearily.
"That's right!" I say. "And I advise you to stop talking and start marching."
Suddenly I feel quite suspicious of the grey-haired man. "Have you been talking about surrendering? Samsarinans never did have the stomach for a fight."
"How dare you talk to Baron Mabados like that!" cries an official with a fancy chain round his neck. I ignore him, having noticed a woman in a red gown standing in the doorway. She looks vaguely familiar. Possibly a servant I met on the way in.
"Could you bring me some beer? A flagon or two will do for now."
"Thraxas!" yells Lisutaris. "That is Baroness Demelzos."
I focus my eyes on the woman. Aquiline features, fancy sort of tiara-like thing stuck in her hair. I suppose she might be a Baroness.
"Is everybody in this room a member of the aristocracy? Isn't there anyone useful who might bring me a beer? They were quiet stingy in the kitchens."
"My kitchens are not stingy!" says Kublinos, offended.
At that moment, weakened perhaps by the rigours of my sea journey, a greet tiredness overwhelms me, and I'm forced to take a seat at the table. It's a fine comfy seat, plushly upholstered in soft brown leather. As I drift off to sleep I'm still feeling some resentment towards the Samsarinans for their frugal hospitality.
Chapter Four
I waken in a surprisingly comfortable bed. Soft mattress, feathered pillow and plenty of blankets. I can't remember how I got there. I'm still straining my memory when the door bursts open and Makri enters. I nod at her genially. Normally I find it annoying when Makri arrives without knocking -growing up in the Orcish Gladiator pits, she never learned any manners - but I let it pass.
"Good morning," I say.
"Thraxas you cusux," she barks, using a foul Orcish obscenity very rarely heard in the West. "Could you possibly be any more of a fool? No, you couldn't. You're number one chariot among fools." She leans over the bed. "Do you have any idea of the trouble you've caused? Lisutaris is trying to organise a war against the Orcs and you almost ruin everything because you couldn't wait five minutes before getting drunk and behaving abominably."
I spread my hands wide. "I was on a boat for eight days. I needed a beer or two. Anyway, I'm sure you're exaggerating.'
"Exaggerating? You accused Baron Mabados of being coward! And mistook his wife for a serving wench! Lisutaris has got enough problems without having to cover for your oafishness."
I attempt to protest but am unable to get a word
"You Samsarinans are not as bad as everyone says. Fine beer you have. Clears a man's head. You know, when I was on that boat I thought of packing it all in. Just let the Orcs walk over us. But now - " I take out my sword. The servant, possibly misinterpreting this, attempts to wriggle free. " -I'll chase these damned Orcs all the way back to the dirt hills they came from. Right after you've brought me more beer. Try using a decent sized tankard this time. And more food, damn it, don't you know how to treat a guest in this country? Where's Lisutaris? I'm her adviser, I should be advising her."
The servant hands me another flagon of ale, then leads me back upstairs, where he shows me into a reception room and asks me to wait. I'm in no mood for waiting. I march swiftly through the large door in front of me, arriving in a stateroom containing Makri, Lisutaris, Kublinos the Harbour Sorcerer, and a few others.
"We've wasted enough time on these pointless discussions!" I cry, banging my sword on the huge ornate desk in the middle of the room. "It's time for action! We need to organise an army and march back to Turai."
There's a brief silence. One of the men in the room, a beefy individual with blunt features and longish grey hair, looks at me in surprise, then turns to Lisutaris.
"Who is this?"
"My Chief Adviser," says Lisutaris, wearily.
"That's right!" I say. "And I advise you to stop talking and start marching."
Suddenly I feel quite suspicious of the grey-haired man. "Have you been talking about surrendering? Samsarinans never did have the stomach for a fight."
"How dare you talk to Baron Mabados like that!" cries an official with a fancy chain round his neck. I ignore him, having noticed a woman in a red gown standing in the doorway. She looks vaguely familiar. Possibly a servant I met on the way in.
"Could you bring me some beer? A flagon or two will do for now."
"Thraxas!" yells Lisutaris. "That is Baroness Demelzos."
I focus my eyes on the woman. Aquiline features, fancy sort of tiara-like thing stuck in her hair. I suppose she might be a Baroness.
"Is everybody in this room a member of the aristocracy? Isn't there anyone useful who might bring me a beer? They were quiet stingy in the kitchens."
"My kitchens are not stingy!" says Kublinos, offended.
At that moment, weakened perhaps by the rigours of my sea journey, a greet tiredness overwhelms me, and I'm forced to take a seat at the table. It's a fine comfy seat, plushly upholstered in soft brown leather. As I drift off to sleep I'm still feeling some resentment towards the Samsarinans for their frugal hospitality.
Chapter Four
I waken in a surprisingly comfortable bed. Soft mattress, feathered pillow and plenty of blankets. I can't remember how I got there. I'm still straining my memory when the door bursts open and Makri enters. I nod at her genially. Normally I find it annoying when Makri arrives without knocking -growing up in the Orcish Gladiator pits, she never learned any manners - but I let it pass.
"Good morning," I say.
"Thraxas you cusux," she barks, using a foul Orcish obscenity very rarely heard in the West. "Could you possibly be any more of a fool? No, you couldn't. You're number one chariot among fools." She leans over the bed. "Do you have any idea of the trouble you've caused? Lisutaris is trying to organise a war against the Orcs and you almost ruin everything because you couldn't wait five minutes before getting drunk and behaving abominably."
I spread my hands wide. "I was on a boat for eight days. I needed a beer or two. Anyway, I'm sure you're exaggerating.'
"Exaggerating? You accused Baron Mabados of being coward! And mistook his wife for a serving wench! Lisutaris has got enough problems without having to cover for your oafishness."
I attempt to protest but am unable to get a word
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