"You've underpaid me."

"What? No I 'aven't, it's all there, see? Thought you lot 'ad good eyesight or summat."

"We do, and I can see that you've underpaid by several shillings."

"Psh, nooo... you, er... you forgot about the ear tax."

"...is that how this is going to go, then? The most cliched reason for not paying an elf their fair due in the book."

"Look 'ere, you... [i]elf![/i] I didn't ask you to clear out those rats from the sewers-"

"You actually specifically asked me to help you, for lack of any other adventurers. You specifically stated that my payment would be two gold crowns, a nomination which has been lessened by nearly a quarter."

"Yeah, I mean... i's not like you did all tha' much anyway!"

"And it turned out that the rats were... beastmen, of a sort, making my job much harder than you claimed it would be. Your town would have been wiped from the face of the Empire if I hadn't been present."

"Sure, sure. Rat beastmen, 'onestly... prob'ly just larger buggers than usual, is all."

"And you think you could have dealt with them."

"I mean, rats aren't so tough. If'n I can deal with your skinny be'ind any day o' the week, I'm sure some overgrown vermin would be easy!"

"And are you willing to back up that statement?"

"What?"

"You insinuated that you would best me in a fight, in spite of your acquisition of my talents for the task of rat slaying. Are you willing to support that sentiment?"

"...er. Erm."

"You know, I believe the dwarves have a saying- or is it ogres?- that roughly translates to "either put up or shut up". That is to say, don't make claims you can't support. So, will I receive my full payment, or must I further prove that I'm worth the money to you?"

"Well, y'see... tha' is to say... I... uhh... uhhh... oh for Sigmar's sake, fine! 'ere's the other eight shillings. But I want you out o' 'ere by sundown, an' I don' wanna see your mug again after tha'!"

"I had no intention of staying much longer anyway. Glad I could be of service, innkeeper."

"...hmm. Interesting. Daring adventurers and sellswords, food and pay for simply presenting myself... afeared of death need not... I believe that'll be my next stop, then."

[hr]

One expects a horse to create sound as it travels. The sound a creature makes whilst moving is, after all, a major facet of flesh and blood entities, in the described case that of hooves against whatever surface is being traversed. Not so the case for a magical, transient version of the creature - the Steed of Shadows, that a fair few Grey Wizards have found themselves capable of producing, makes very little sound of its own, for its feet are not of a substance that is well-known for being particularly loud.

Thus, it happened to be the case that Baecion's approach to the castle Guilamuero was rather quieter than one would expect. Enough so, in fact, that he successfully moved within a hundred meters of the keep without being noticed (though the audience of maybe two persons had other things to focus on), before dismounting his steed and allowing it to dissipate into the night; the final stretch was traversed on foot, the wizard remaining in the shadows just in case he was in the wrong place. Judging by the state of the building, he doubted it - from local gossip, he knew the Lord Trantio was short on funds, shorter on fortune, and completely brassic when it came to sanity, or so Tilea's peasantry would have him believe. Even so, he couldn't help but mull over a wry comment about how Athel Loren probably had better craftsmanship than that fortress. He was sure his allies would have appreciated it, were they still alive.

As he drew close, he espied a woman who was quite classically beautiful, for a human at least, turning and re-entering the building, followed shortly by a man in half-plate. Refraining from introducing himself for the time being just in case they did not mean well, Baecion shadowed their movement (not as well as he would have cared to, but they didn't seem to be paying attention to him anyway) through the castle's halls, until such time as they approached the main hall itself; here, the woman leaned up against an entrance column briefly, describing the tools she and the others in the room would require for what sounded like a kidnapping ([i]So it's that sort of expedition, is it?[/i]), as well as a mention of a goblin ([i]Oh dear.[/i]), before striding into the room proper, muffling the rest of what she said from Baecion's perception.

As she continued to talk, the elf quietly slipped into the hall, taking a seat at the great table fairly close to the surprisingly plentiful feast, but away from what appeared to be a stain of gore across a rather wide area, acquiring choice morsels from the platters near him for his own plate as they caught his fancy. He didn't at this point make any effort to remain concealed, though he still wasn't necessarily keen on introducing himself immediately, being that present company included a dwarf with a missing hand, an exceptionally large and mean-looking human, and of all things a goblin. He was quite sure the corpse in the corner had been a greenskin of some sort, too, and wondered about how likely it was for yet another unsavoury face to turn up after himself.