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Ceolfric had no idea what Cerric meant by that last bit, though it had him marginally curious. The favored of his own god weren't what he'd consider pleasant, but that was to be expected; it would be interesting to see how Melanar's measured up. Especially since he doubted a dull Buscanian blade posed any more of a threat to Cerric than a feathered pillow.

The two drunks certainly didn't fall in that category, at any rate. The safer option would be to simply kill them, but they didn't have anything of value on them, and that made it more hassle than it was worth, especially since these two didn't look to be capable of any sort of retaliation that mattered. Whatever small time pilfering they got up to on their own time simply wasn't Ceolfric's problem, so long as it didn't involve that stupid cart. 

There were a lot less variables in mercenary work than he expected, honestly.

[color=AA4A44]"Fine, go."[/color] Ceolfric waved the man along with the flat of his blade. [color=aa4a44]"I'll hold you to that last part. If your word proves less than binding, remember that I know your face, Kanithson."[/color] This miscreant will be drunkenly gossiping about this encounter the first chance he got, and if someone capable overheard, they could potentially end up with a problem on their hands. Thankfully, he didn't think Jar had gotten a look at their cargo, so they didn't make the most enticing target as it stood.
 
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