The unicellular brute was grimly berating four others of his kind, each dumber-looking than the next.
Normally, I'd have told them to shave or at least get that stinking fuzz of hair sorted out and bodies washed, but I couldn't.
My life was worth more than mere comfort. "Marquess Crookfoot has rallied her allies, at least four viscounts and one earl, asking for both compensation and an explanation.
While all we did was lose contact with Duke Richhousen and our targets alike, the rope tightens around our necks. Bit by bloody bit."
"I simply don't care, Paladin Xerzer. What that stupid marquess does and wants. We have a damn monstrous uprising to quell, a rebellion to crush and a fucking daemon to sniff out!
Not a political debate to brawl over!" "Listen Roches, will you. If we don't help the aristocracy secure their power and influence in these difficult times, there won't be any donations coming from their pockets.
The Grandmaster sent you here to assist us for a very good reason, not to get in our way." The unicellular, professional stick-swinger was so red in the face I wouldn't be surprised if he arbitrarily cut someone's throat.
"Or start spitting fire." But his adversary and the man in command of this operation that had already eaten up a little less than two weeks of our precious time, Paladin Xerzer, couldn't be touched.
"You will regret this," in the end, even he had to calm down, "you will so bloody regret running after random thieves and assassins!" I felt mixed feelings listening to their conversation.
One reason was that similar discussions took place once a day to culminate to twice a day after a week of chasing phantoms had passed eventlessly.
The second was because the Grandmaster was on their side and Paladin Roches couldn't do anything except run his mouth dry.
The third was because the Grandinspector was nowhere to be found, or so I had been told five days ago, as we slaughtered a whole caravan of non-humans for stupid reasons.
Another paladin came running towards them, halting to grab a mug of ale from the makeshift table and gobble down some sausages, goods the caravan had no need for any longer.
"Paladin Jeffos. You were tasked with communications?" "Ay...," he didn't bother to swallow first and was talking with a full mouth, spitting the contents all over the place.
I had to restrain myself really hard, opting to cut some more vegetables into the thick soup I was working on with the disgruntled cook instead of providing much-needed advice.
It was no use betraying my thoughts. The doucellular idiot's fate was the best proof. She was now demoted to cut some wood, keep the fires burning and hunt game.
All that just because she ran off her mouth when Paladin Xerzer had gloatingly spat his unreasonable demands.
On top of all that, if not for the unicellular collection of angry thoughts vouching for her, her fate would've been much worse.
Honestly, the illiterate cook missing an arm and a leg was far better company than any one member of the distinguished ragtag bunch I worked my ass off to feed three times a day.
Luckily my mother taught me how to cook well, one of the few happy circumstances that happened to me back before I ran off to become an inspector. What a glorious idea that had been...
"...the capital is boiling over. Turns out not every aristocrat is on the royal family's side. Some non-humans were safely smuggled into the city and kept out of sight for who knows how long.
They weren't put under the usual enchantments or limitators restraining them, which delivered a nasty surprise to the crown." "I knew it. Fucking daemon in the city and we ignore that?"
Paladin Roches had so much hatred packed into his glare that Paladin Xerzer was taking some steps back, just in case.
His buddies got him covered, yet the man apparently didn't feel safe. "Understandable," I muttered, "Paladin Roches is the closest to the Grandmaster."
"Therefore also the greatest target." I flinched, turning my head and staring at the cook, surprise radiating off my eyes.
"Hmm... took me for a random jack? Lemme tell ya, I've lived longer in their midst than anyone before me, girlie.
Know the bunch inside out. Stupid mongrels worse than any bandit you'll ever meet." The cook then turned away, having obviously said too much.
While he was apparently done with me, I wasn't. His words were repeating endlessly in my head, helping me come to a conclusion I didn't like one bit.
"Marquess Crookfoot won't stand still as long as we haven't returned her the stolen heirloom. If we turn back, she will put the order in quite a difficult spot."
Paladin Jeffos looked at the man strangely. Grabbing some more sausages and drinking his fill, he closed in on the fire, warming himself up before he eventually broke the oppressive silence.
"Hardly possible. The good marquess is dead, her estate burned to the ground, descendants hanged and former servants desecrating their remains.
Got the intelligence this morning." "What?!" "You heard me right, Paladin Roches. Non-humans have taken her land, essentially cutting off the supply route to the capital. Just like many others."
"But... this?" "Paladin Xerzer, a word if I may. Neither goods nor guards will pass if we don't hurry up.
Smuggling us over will cost a hefty coin, but that is only possible as long as mice move unobstructed."
"So turmoil reached the capital, the non-humans gather there while most of us have been dispatched far away to provide support to well-off nobles.
This is... devious. But if we rally the clergy... each church can get us there at considerable cost. So there must be some informants shadowing our every move.
And not just my group..." The cook turned my way again, his eyes neither preoccupied nor scared by the news he'd overheard.
There was this sort of glimmer in them I've never seen on an invalid. A little bit of surprise, some questions unanswered. But overall they were radiating confidence. Then it hit me.
"I-I don't k-know anything," I stuttered, "please l-leave me o-out of th-this mess." His eyes stared down on me, his intentions unreadable.
Until he grinned meaningfully, nodding for a second before theatrically gesturing to the soup. That was when I realised that I shall go hungry this evening.