[i]"The pleasure is mine"[/i] Gahetano answered. [i]"You made a good point, miss Del'Arivara... posing as traders or feriants for the festivals, we might stay in the town for a while without calling any atention and make a more accurate plan"[/i]

He took a cup of whine. After doubting for a moment, he noticed the old demi-fainted man in a chair near the wall, and handed him the alcohol. The man accepted it with a grateful gesture. Then Gahetano adressed the group: [i]"In that, we are all concerned: does enyone know if it's legal to exhibit caged goblins in Bretonnia? Or does anyone have another suggestion?"[/i]

The mercenary raised another cup, while meaningfuly pulling a jar near the little greenskin. For one moment he remembered that one goblin ambush the same month of the horsemen. Now he found it even stranger the little runt hadn't tried to stab his ribs yet. Gods. Poor lil Elzbeth knew how to speak Bretonnian. She would had been so useful here... but no: she was safe now. And the farer from him the better.