"You can't do this to me! We had a deal!" shouted Largon, struggling in vain against the thick ropes binding him to the chair he's seated in.

"Did we? The Son of the Dragons would never make such dishonorable dealings with the enemies of his people," Rughoi said. "However, by his divine mercy, he shall now make one with you now. Tell me everything you know about the city of Aredor, and I will allow you to rot in prison with all your limbs intact."

"Alas, I should have known!" Largon shouted. "Never to trust a filthy kobold! They lie and cheat, and just whe-"

"I've heard enough," Rughoi interrupted. "Merat, if you would be so kind." Merat, without a word, drew his sword. Largons insults turned to pitiful screams. Merat didn't even flinch as he raised the sword up, then brought it down on Largon's fingers. "I think you've really made a breakthrough with our friend here. Now it seems he can't shut up."

"Please, enough!" screamed Largon. "Anything, please!"

"Let's start with Aredor," Rughoi offered.

"Unstable walls!" said Largon, between gasps and whimpers. "Strong gate! Little sewage!"

"Thank you sir, that's all we need to know. Merat, have our engineers construct siege weaponry. As many as possible. Also, track down some diseased . . . I don't know . . . cows or something. Now, what to do with you? Kutur, have you heard back from the Fertile Valley?"

"Yes, I have actually, Your Might," Kutur said, flipping through his many ledgers. "They were not deal with us in the slightest. However, they will take in the prisoner."

"That's as much as I expected from the Fertile Valley tyrants," said Rughoi, turning back to Largon. "There, you see? You wanted accommodations, now you've got it! Well, for the few weeks before they execute you for your crimes, that is."