[center][color=yellow][h3]Gruyere Emmentaler Caerphilly Yarg[/h3][/color][/center]

As much as Gru would have liked to say he gave the marketer a serious run for his money, Argun had not exaggerated when he alluded to his skill. With his associates from Dawnlight Opportunities looking on, as still and silent as statues, the cheesemaker’s opponent unleashed an onslaught of tactical maneuvers, each one more clever than the last. He did not rush his moves, but neither did he hesitate overlong. Instead the Dinnin dwarf remained calm and in control at all times, his bearded face unreadable. Once the momentum of the game really swung in Argun’s favor, Gru could see the deathblow coming from a mile away, but his opponent ran such a tight ship that the cheesemaker found himself powerless to keep the steel jaws of Argun’s trap from snapping shut. Time and time again, he was forced to sacrifice his pieces, and his forces dwindled with alarming speed. Though he managed to drag it out a bit, the writing was on the wall for Gru; before too long, it was checkmate.

“Well, that’s that,” Gru conceded at last. He reached out for his king, and gently lifted the crown off his rat’s head between thumb and index finger. Immediately the little creature played dead, making a big show of falling over, then dramatically reaching upward in desperation before he breathed his last. Chuckling, the cheesemaker leaned back in his chair, tented his fingers, and gave Argun a respectful nod. “You certainly weren’t lying, my friend. If anything, you sold yourself short.”

The marketer gave a casual shrug, as if he hadn’t just dispatched his opponent with military precision. “I merely forced you to play defensively, taking control of the game’s pacing. You were so busy salvaging the situation that you were unable to turn the tide.” He reached up and tapped his temple. “The true battle is not on the board, but in here. To achieve victory, you must get into your adversary’s head. Only then will you be able to seize the initiative.”

Gru gave a solemn nod, making sure to treat the suggestion like sage advice. “Of course, of course. I’ll have to add that one to the playbook.” He inhaled deeply, looking around his wagon’s interior. “Well, I must say. All that fighting for my life has me quite parched.” He lifted an eyebrow at the Dawnlight Opportunities dwarves. “Would the Clanhold Buraq happen to have good coffee?”

The question instantly decimated all three dwarves’ stoicism. While the other two just stood there, flabbergasted, Argun managed to find his tongue. “Would the-!” Very quickly, however, he caught himself, turning his astonishment into a good-natured baritone laugh. “Ohohoho. You really must be new here, Mr. Yarg!” He stood up from Gru’s desk with such suddenness that all the rats sitting around on it scattered. “Come, come. Follow me. I’ll show you the best coffee in the whole city!”

Gru stood as well. “Oh, you’re too kind, I couldn’t possibly steal any more of your time.”

“Nonsense!” Already on his way out the door, Argun beckoned him to follow. “Our hospitality is the least we can offer. You invited us into your home, after all. And since I ran you so ragged to begin with, I would be remiss if I did not make it up to you! No better time to talk business than over a cup of coffee, either.”

After that, Gru could do nothing but concede. He locked up the Chuck Wagon and left it in the care of his rats, taking with him as many as the Dinnin would allow, then joined them for a friendly excursion. With his three new acquaintances to lead the way, vouch for him, and keep him company, he could finally cross the outskirts of the desert stronghold and into the city itself. On his own he would have balked at navigating its vastly complicated network of byways and footpaths, but the marketers guided him as if they had compasses in their heads. Luckily, their rather short legs and unhurried gait meant that their pace wasn’t so brisk that Gru couldn’t take in the sights. Between its culture and its economy, nothing seemed to sum this society up better than ‘rich’, and as an entrepreneur Gru could appreciate that. Though the Clanhold still possessed its fair share of subtle menace, the cheesemaker could appreciate its marvels keeping in mind the foundations upon which this civilization could rise to such remarkable heights.

Before long, Gru was sitting in an exquisite outdoor cafe booth alongside an inclined street. Each U-shaped booth could comfortably seat nine dwarves, so one could accommodate a human(?) and three dwarves just fine. Each lay beneath a bonnet that extended from the nearby wall for shade against whatever desert sun managed to penetrate the Clanhold streets, and the patterned futons were so fine that Gru almost felt bad for sitting on them. Each bore intricate geometric patterns in vivid red, yellow, and brown, not unlike miniature mosaics. In the center of the booth sat a low table, itself swathed in a tapestry of a tablecloth, and upon it sat a curiosity. On top of a flame-lit stove sat a shallow cauldron filled with sand. Argun was delighted to give Gru a demonstration of its workings. A well-dressed Ainok waiter delivered a set of four bronze cups, each lined with a muddy sediment of water and fine coffee grounds. When Argun placed them on the blazing sand, the cups magically filled themselves.

Even after taking the full mug of foaming hot coffee in hand, Gru hardly needed to oversell how impressed he was. “What sorcery is this?” he wondered aloud. “And how can I do it?”

“Trade secret. But here’s a hint: there’s nothing magical about it,” Argun informed him, subtly pleased. “It is nothing more than the interplay of tradition, science, and highest-quality ingredients.” He watched as Gru took a sip from his cup. “How does it compare?”

Gru swirled the liquid around his mouth, noting its surprising density. The grounds must still be a part of the finished product, he realized. “There is no comparison,” he said after a moment. “Next to this, all other coffees might as well be bathwater.”

His new friends laughed, and everyone chatted for a while as they drank their beverages. Gru did not allow his true goal to slip from his mind, however, and after an appropriate interval he switched back to the task at hand. “You know,” he began. “What you said about coffee rather reminds me of my cheese. I myself cannot boast the history of the Dinnin, but cheesemaking is an ancient craft in its own right, and to an outsider it may as well be magic. In truth it is no more than chemistry, care, and lots and lots of practice.” He smiled. “But the results speak for themselves.”

“Hmm, yes.” Argun set down his cup, then stroked his beard as he thought. “I do believe your business presents a promising opportunity. We Dinnin are an artful people, but cheesemaking is not among our arts, so cheese is something of a delicacy. I must ask, however.” He crossed his arms. “Cheese is rare, but it is not unknown. And neither is the itinerant nature of the Pilgrim’s Caravan. I cannot imagine that you would remain here long enough for your cheeses to age to completion. If we helped you, how could we expect to receive a return on our investment?”

Gru nodded. These dwarves were astute, as expected, but the cheesemaker came prepared. “It may surprise you to learn that not all cheesemaking is created equal. It just so happens that I can do in days what others could only do in weeks or months. I will have a bounty of cheeses ready for the market before the Caravan departs. On that, you have my guarantee, and I know that is not something the Dinnin take lightly.”

“No indeed,” Argun murmured.

“One other matter,” Gru continued, not missing a beat. “At present I lack capital. So in order to partner with you, I imagine we would be entering a revenue sharing contract.”

Though he hadn’t cast a spell, he did say some magic words. Revenue sharing could be lucrative indeed, provided one could be confident in success. Just offering it said a lot about Gru’s own confidence, and it tickled the marketers’ taste buds as well. Argun beckoned his associates to come closer, and they spoke only briefly while Gru politely turned his gaze to the bustling street.

After a few moments, the dwarves had their answer. “You’re a bold one, Mr. Yarg,” Argun told him. “We like that. We can see your product’s potential, and it is clear you are a seasoned tradesman.” He extended his hand. “Let us become richer together.”

The cheesemaker shook the Dinnin dwarves’ hands. “Yes. Let's.”