(Yeah, I think so. The soup nazi, right?)

"I'm not sure that was necessary," Kutur mumbled, mostly to himself. He felt like a complete idiot. The pairs of eyes slowly wandering his way didn't help in the slightest. The soup vendor returned quickly, slapping down two bowls of steaming soup. It certainly smelled good. Better, at least, then the exotic delicacies that the Bythesea courts ate daily. Kutur could never completely stomach the lark's tongues or the buzzard's gizzards, and pork (and other meats) sounded pretty good to him.

"Free of charge! Honor to serve companions of the emperor!" gasped the vendor. One didn't need to be an expert psychologist to see the fear in his eyes. Kutur sighed. The vendor was expecting some sort of vengeance! What horrors did he expect to have inflicted on him? It made him a bit sick to even accept the soup.

"You don't have to do that," Kutur said. "I'll get you the gold I owe you tomorrow, promise."