was to do anything with me, your honorness," the dwarf answered. "Been going about me business in Mirabar since before ye was born and before yer daddy was born. I'm not needing ye to do much."
The marchion's sour look showed that he was not overly impressed with the statement or the not-so-subtle reminder that Torgar had been in service to Mirabar for a long, long time.
"It is just that heritage that brings me a quandary," Elastul explained.
"Quandary?" Torgar asked, and he scratched his own beard. "That a place where ye get both rocks and milk?"
The marchion's face screwed up with confusion.
"A dilemma," he explained.
"What is?" asked the dwarf.
Torgar worked hard to hide his grin. One thing he knew about humans was that they carried an internal superiority belief, and playing dumb was the easiest way a dwarf could deflect ire.
"What is what?" the marchion replied.
"Yeah, that."
"Enough!" the marchion cried. He was visibly trembling, to which Torgar only shrugged, as if he understood none of it. "Your actions present me with a dilemma."
"How's that?"
"The people of Mirabar look up to you. You're one of the most trusted commanders in the Axe, a dwarf of fine reputation and honor."
"Bah, Marchion Elastul, ye're bringing a blush to me bearded cheeks and to me other ones, as well." He finished the sentence by twisting to look over his shoulder. "Though I'm guessing them nether ones're becoming about as hairy as old age begins to set in."
Elastul looked as if he wanted to slap himself across the face, which pleased Torgar greatly.
The man gave a great sigh and started to respond, but the door to the audience chamber banged open and Sceptrana Shoudra Stargleam entered.
"Marchion," she greeted with a bow.
"We are discussing whether or not I should have you melt the Axe symbol off of Torgar's armor," the marchion replied, throwing aside Torgar's distracting remarks.
"We are?" the dwarf asked innocently.
"Enough!" Elastul scolded again. "You know well enough that we are, and you know well enough why I have summoned you here. To think that you, of all dwarves, would go consorting with our enemies."
Torgar held up his stubby-fingered hands, his expression going suddenly grim.
"Ye take care on who ye're calling our enemies," he warned Elastul.
"Need I remind you of the wealth that Bruenor Battlehammer and his dwarves have stolen from us?"
"Bah, they've stolen not a thing! I made me a couple o' pretty deals from where I'm looking."
"Not their caravan! Their mines to the cast. Need I remind you of the drop in business since Mithral Hall's forges began to burn once more? Ask Shoudra there. She above all others can tell you of the difficulty in renewing contracts and attracting new buyers."
"True enough," the woman added. "Since the return of Mithral Hall, my job has become far more difficult."
"As have all of our jobs," Torgar agreed. "And that'll make us better, from where I'm looking."
"Clan Battlehammer is no friend of Mirabar!" Elastul declared.
"Nor are they our enemy," Torgar replied, "and ye should be careful afore ye go callin' them such."
The marchion came forward in his chair so suddenly that Torgar reflexively brought a hand up by his right shoulder, near to the hilt of the large axe he always kept strapped across his back, and that movement, in turn, made the marchion and his four Hammers start and widen their eyes.
"King Bruenor came in as a friend," Torgar remarked when things had settled a bit. "He came here on his way through, as a friend, and he was let in as a friend."
"Or to take a measure of his greatest rivals," Shoudra remarked, but Torgar just shrugged that thought away.
"And if ye're letting a dwarf legend into yer city, then how can ye be sayin' the dwarves o' yer city can't go and sit with him?"
"Many of the dwarves of my city are among the loudest voices for espionage against King Bruenor's Mithral Hall," Elastul reminded. "You have heard their calls for spies to go into Mithral Hall and find some way to shut down the forges, or to flood some of the more promising tunnels, or to place cheaper goods in among the armor and weapons Clan Battlehammer is sending out to market."
Torgar couldn't deny the truth of the marchion's words, nor the fact that he, himself, had uttered similar curses against Mithral Hall in the past, but that seemed different to him than this personal visit, a rant against a faceless rival. Torgar might not wish Clan Battlehammer well with their merchandising,