For her part, Lady Dressarosa Arvanxi spent a good deal of her time leaning over the rail or lying in her cabin. Apparently, while Queen Abrogail herself had picked her out for her connection to prominent figures within Korvosa itself, she had not taken into consideration her ability to stand being out on the open ocean.
However, after many days of travel, your journey is finally over. You can finally get off the ship. Nobody seems happier about this than your charge, who seems (despite her decidedly green pallor) delighted to finally be rid of the rocking deck beneath her feet.
"Leandric," she said, pausing to supress one final attempt for her stomach to reject its contents while she did so. "Make a note that while travel by sea is safer than travel through Nidal, both have more than their fair share of unpleasantness. I hope to never be on another ship again for as long as I live. Oh, and Edmund, Tellis. Keep an eye out for Mr. Ruttle, will you? I'd like to sleep as soon as I give my sister a proper greeting."
Now is not the time to focus on this, however. After all, a noble from Cheliax who has been communicating you for months is due to arrive today. She has requested that you handle the purchase of a well-to-do townhouse in the East Shore district of the city. Thankfully, you were able to find a adequate piece of property that had been in financial limbo for quite some time, and were able to negotiate a more than fair price with little hassle. She had given specific instructions to meet her at the docks as soon as she arrived, so that you could lead her servants to her new abode while she went about her own business during her arrival.
As such reaching port was a blessing. It wasn't just that he would have solid ground under his feet again but that she did. From now on recording should be a lot more pleasant.
When they all had disembarked and she ordered him to make note of her discomfort he had to suppress a grin. "Of course milady. With your permission I will also add a note for them to further investigate an alternate route via Molthune."
Edmund nods to the Lady Dressarosa. He takes point in walking off the gangplank to land, stopping briefly to take a deep breath and look around.
"So this is Korvosa. It's no Westcrown, but it will do, I suppose. Now where is our paper pushing friend?"
He walks past the various porters and dock workers and stretches as he does so. "I have walked through halfling quarters with more headroom than that ship."
Hiram stands silently at attention near Lady Dressarosa. If the trip from Cheliax had bothered him in any capacity, he does not show it. He looks impassively at the unfamiliar city, so far from home. Quite honestly, he had trouble seeing the difference between Korvosa and any other Chelaxian settlement. Just as dour and colourless, if a bit smaller than some.
Why has it got to be so cold up here?
The warpriest occupies himself with scanning the dock for undesirables. Undoubtedly there were elements in the city that resisted Chelish influence, some who would not be afraid to resort to assassination...
"Let's see, if I recall he was a skinny, bookish type...in, oh yes, a city famous for it's school of wizardry. Yes, that will be easy to pick out."
Edmund takes a moment to tie the hair back from his face to give all of his eyes a clear look around the docks. Why bother with hiding it? It's not as if he were wearing a robe to keep the tail bound up, anyway, he thought, as he flicked it in annoyance.
"Are you sure we aren't to meet him at your quarters, or his office, M'lady? Portside rendezvous do not exactly scream of a scribe's most pleasant meeting. I rather imagine the ink does not fare well when you have to use a belaying pin for your quill."
A bit of red in his eyes show the time spent last night drinking with the sailors and trying to learn that silly game with the knives, yet Tellis still walks beside the lady and Edmund with the lazy grace of a strolling nobleman. "Yes, of course... Mr. Ruttle." Tellis rolls his shoulders stretching mildly now that he is outside the confines of the ship. He appears to look around the docks for the lady's contact, with her hand safely in the crook of his left arm and his right hand free to draw steel if needed on the rough-and-tumble docks.
"Come now Edmund, let us not frighten the lady. We are off the ship and surely the true obstacle has passed. Now we just find this... Ruttle and then a nice inn perhaps. It will be good to get something not stored in a ships larder for weeks.."
"I am with you there, Tellis. A fine meal, and something to drink that isn't rum would be nice...though as soon as we can get the Lady to safety, you know I have pressing matters of my own in town, so that will have to wait. Hopefully Ruttle will be able to direct me to where the Order of the Nail is headquartered when we've settled down and are secure."
He adjusts the massive shield on his back and scratches his chin with his tail. It's not like the bookkeeper to be late. He always dots his 'i's and crosses his 't's... with a nod to Tellis, he smirks. "...and once I've had my business taken care of, well then, my friend, then we have cause to justify one of your parties."
The HMS Sarglagon Mortis was the first vessel of any kind that Marcus had ever sailed in, and it had been an obvious struggle for him to maintain his stiff dignity while marveling over the great ship's passage through the turbulent waters. It was clear that he had a dozen questions bottled in his throat, but he watched the sailors in silent fascination as they called out their cant and obeyed the captain's orders with alacrity.
The pitching of the deck bothered him only on the first day, and thereafter he could be found at the bow, one large knuckled hand clasping a rope, enjoying each time the boat slammed into a wave and sent brine hissing up over the deck. His occasional bark of laughter could be heard when a particularly rough impact would cause him to almost lose his feet.
At night, however, he mostly kept to himself; he sat in his bunk with a pair of spectacles perched on his broken nose, peering down through the wondrous gift at a children's spelling book, silently mouthing an endless series of A's and O's and other letters to himself with an almost mulish patience.
For the most part he avoided the others in his group; some part of him found it hard to believe that they would maintain the same company for long, and thus he made no attempt to ingratiate himself with either the princess or the other men. He was polite at meal times, called everyone 'sir' regardless of whether they protested or not, and kept his opinions to himself.
Now, off the ship and on the bustling Korvosa docks, he throws his backpack over one broad shoulder, not bothering with the strap, and brings up the rear, taking in the sights that only two months ago before Westcrown would have had him oggling like the rural peasant he is. After doing the rounds of the Chelish courts and fetes, however, he's able to maintain a stolid mask of indifference, as if, having seen one large city, he could now claim to have seen them all.
All too aware of how dangerous such docks could be, both with pickpockets and muggers - he'd heard his share of tales at the old village tavern - he keeps a sharp eye out for anybody getting too close to his person, as well as projecting a disapproving scowl to aid in dissuading any overly friendly strangers from approaching. Let the others worry about finding their contact and entertaining the princess; he'd watch their rear and wait for his inevitable dismissal.
"Focus," Hiram rumbles to Edmund and Tellis. "We are working."
His voice is a deep baritone, and his Taldane heavily accented with Garundi tones.
|
Bearing a yellow cap and with pince-nez perched on the bridge of his nose, a scholarly scrap of a man tottered his way down the road. His admittedly nebbish appearance being enough of a marker, but following dutifully by him was a small pig, wearing a pack saddle of sorts. The solicitor's porcine companion carried a stack of books and ledgers.
As he approached, the reddish color of the nib of the quill tucked in his cap became clear.
An obsequious grin spilled across his face as he lay eyes on your leader. "Ah, yes, Lady Arvanxi, I presume? This is the HMS Sarglagon Mortis, very good, you and your entourage are expected. I am Sclivian Ruttle, Esq., at your service. The estate has been purchased and is now available, at your request. It is located in the East Shore as requested, and should be available for occupation by your servants immediately."
Hiram's reminder was pride damaging, but necessary. He'd learned much under the man's tutilidge and respected his constancy and dedication to whatever task was at hand. His previous smile turns to a grim mask and he nods at the southerner.
There's a visible twitch in an eyebrow for Edmund at the word "servants", but he doesn't speak up in regard it...just narrows coal black eyes. He'd have to get used to this if he was going to be part of a military unit. There was no place for posturing and entitlement in his future.
At the mention of servants, Tellis looks around. "We are meeting others then? Very good. Please lead the way Mr. Ruttle, the Lady would like to rest before meeting with her sister." Tellis gestures for Mr. Ruttle to lead the way.
Marcus stands to one side, staring impassively at the small man in the canary yellow cap. For a moment his gaze lingers on the pig, which elicits a raised eyebrow, but then he returns his attention to their immediate environs, letting the others engage their contact in conversation. The crowds on the dock swirl about them, voices call out orders and requests, the seagulls scream and the waves lap against the piers. It's bedlam, and the cacophony serves only to cause Marcus to frown and focus all the more fiercely on not letting down his guard.
As all of you look around, it becomes more and more obvious that anyone who wanted to attempt an assassination attempt upon such a high-profile target like a Chelish ambassador would have to be brave, suicidal, or both. The Korvosan Guard was out in force for this arrival, and perched on the warehouses were the marines of the hippogriff-riding Sable Company. Unless King Eodred's prevailing attitudes about the benefits of being on passably good terms with House Thrune and the rest of Chelish nobility had changed drastically during the boat ride over, then it was quite likely that Dressrosa and the rest of you would be quite safe.
However, despite this sheen of safety, Marcus can see some dockworkers furtively whispering among themselves, barely concealing their hate for you and your fellow arrivals. However, they hardly seem like the type to get into a fight, considering their woefully underfed nature and obvious low class. The chances of them knowing how to fight better than the military presence here or yourself are slim, at best.
"Mr. Ruttle!" Dressrosa said with a great deal of relief, managing to conceal some of her remaining seasickness. "Yes, yes. Thank you ever so kindly for your services. I see that your glowing recommendation from Ambassador Amprei is quite well deserved. Alas, I regret not being able to join all of you immediately, no matter how much I wish to. It would be quite rude to arrive without going to greet my sister, now wouldn't it?"
At that moment, some of the crowd would part to reveal a group of what is presumably the palace guard walking towards all of you. Leading them is a woman wearing a dull grey suit of plate armor without a helmet, a falchion sheathed on her back. To a practiced eye like that of Edmund, Tellis, or Marcus, it was obvious to tell that this woman was a practiced warrior, quite possibly to a degree that even a Hellknight would envy. Her entire posture suggested that she would be ready to fight in an instant, and that she was hardly disturbed the assortment of highly armed and armored individuals accompanying the ambassador. This woman would walk forward, dipping into a slight bow towards Lady Arvanxi.
"Greetings Lady Dressarosa," the woman said, her voice calm, measured. "I am Sabina Merrin. Her Majesty has requested that I escort you to Castle Korvosa when you are ready."
"Very well then, Lady Merrin. I'm quite looking forward to seeing Illy after four years." Dressarosa would give Sabina a smile before turning to the rest of you. "I will be fine with her. Just worry about getting yourselves situated. I will be back sometime tonight."
Edmund gives a bow to the woman.
"Forgive my speaking up, but it is an honor to have a guard to the queen herself and one highly favored of the Queen in my presence as her personal bodyguard, ma'am."
His smile is genuine, and he leaves more undercurrent in his voice, only true admiration. It is not easy to rise a personal guard for royalty. And I'm nobility myself, and stuck working for a mere ambassador. I'm sure if my skin were a pretty pink I'd be the one sent to other lands to talk. Patience, Ed, now is not the time...
At the ambassador's assurance of safety he nods. "Yes, ma'am. Enjoy yourself."
He turns to Sclivian once she's left. "I assume you know the city well, wizard? I have business to attend now that we have some free time. Do you know where the Order of the Nail are headquartered?"
Furrowing his brow, Edmund nods. Patience, Ed. There is time. Remain calm. Show nothing. Analyze the situation. Leave emotion behind. Emotions are for the weak. "You are of course correct. Yes...that would be best."
Leandric quietly made his notes, adding more personal comments as well. His official reports would be made on official stationary, these were just the drafts. As such he was free to make notations of anything that could prove of interest including his own, personal interest.
When the lady left he made a short bow, "You know where to find me should you require my aid milady."
Once she was gone he turned to the others, "So Ruttle, what can you tell us about the manor? Any information on the area it is situated in, the grounds belonging to the manor and the previous inhabitants?"
Hiram salutes Lady Dressarosa in the Chelish fashion, giving the palace guard and their leader an appraising look.
Of course she does not want us in the castle...
The mercenary then turns to Ruttle, waiting patiently until everyone is done exchanging pleasantries.
Marcus watches the proceedings with his customary silence. It's almost surreal, to hear this talk of royal bodyguards, escorts to the palace, manors on the East Shore... but he allows none of this to appear on his face. And the lethality that the Lady's new escort exudes is almost chilling; it's one thing to capitalize on natural talent and innate strength like he has, and another altogether to meet someone who has dedicated their lives to their ability to deal death.
Marcus then gives their Lady an awkward half bow as she departs, and then turns to the others as they begin conversing. Like Hiram, he chooses to simply wait until decisions are made, and then will heft his pack and earthbreaker and fall in step with the others.
After saying proper goodbyes to the Ambassador, Tellis says, "Lead on Mr. Ruttle..."
As they set off and are well away from the guards, Tellis adds, "Edmund, I believe that woman dueled Vencarlo Orsini himself to a draw. Apparently he wasn't her type and took offense to her rejection. Was a fight to behold I have heard...
"Well, that must've been an impressive sight. All I had heard was abour her being a personal guard..."
"...to the queen. It is actually good to see she earned her position from more than..."
"All over a rejection, though. Shame that a simple matter of pride could risk, and I assume hurt his reputation so."
"Pride can be dangerous when unearned," Hiram mutters. "But it is love that makes men act like fools..."
"Like every other emotion."
The walk to East Shore is simple enough. Thankfully you had docked in the Midland sector of the city rather than Old Korvosa. However, it's a relatively simple affair to walk along the streets of Korvosa. Oddly enough, despite the relative size of the city, it's not nearly as populous as the likes of Westcrown or Egorian. It's no wonder a great many of the nobles back in Cheliax consider it a backwater, looking at it now.
Eventually, you cross the aptly named High Bridge, entering the East Shore sector itself. The entire portion of the city seems to scream of defensibility, with a solid wall surrounding it and the bridge being the only real point of entrance into this sector of the city. Perhaps by most standards, the architecture of this sector would be impressive, but by the standards of any Chelexian noble, it is shoddy at best. It's not badly built by any means, it's simply... not up to snuff.
After a while more of walking, Mr. Ruttle is able to lead your little group to your new home for the duration of your stay. As with much of the rest of this sector, it leaves much to be desired. However, it's passable enough, and has more than enough room to handle all of you. Most important of all though is the way it's built. The place is little more than a stylishly decorated fortress!
Edmund looks around at the decor as they enter, instinctively paying attention to battlements, defensible areas, and other areas in case a battle were to break out.
"You know, it isn't home, but I like it."
"Like every other emotion."
Hiram's moustache twitches slighty in a way that Edmund knows signals displeasure, but he says nothing.
After a while more of walking, Mr. Ruttle is able to lead your little group to your new home for the duration of your stay. As with much of the rest of this sector, it leaves much to be desired. However, it's passable enough, and has more than enough room to handle all of you. Most important of all though is the way it's built. The place is little more than a stylishly decorated fortress!
As he had taught Edmund to do every time he enters a building, Hiram pays close attention to the tactical layout. He focuses more on possible weaknesses, and how they could be fortified.
Leandric didn't pay much attention to the appearance of the house. He was used to sleeping in inns and while it often were expensive ones it still left something to be desired. "As long as it has a good bed, a decent chair and a proper desk for me to do my writing I am happy."
He then walked over to Edmund, placing a hand on the tiefling's shoulder, "If you still want to find the Hellknights here, I can help you. They don't have a place within the city but Citadel Vraid isn't too far from here, only about 50 miles to the South West. It is up in the mountains though. You must also know that the people here aren't fond of them."
"I would appreciate that, Leandric. Why they wouldn't be fond is not unexpected, though it is foolish of them. They enjoy their freedom, even though it costs them their safety, and their progress. The Order are a lone island of civilization in the sea of chaos that is Varisia. The only people who should fear them are lawbreakers and criminals. The Hellknights do not prey on the innocent. Perhaps if the people of Korvosa do not like the image in the mirror, then the glass that shows the reflection is not the one to blame."
Marcus trails along behind the rest of the group, taking in Korvosa with apparent steady scrutiny, but the further he walks away from Dressrossa the more a dull concern begins to grow in the back of his mind. Even as it does, he curses himself for a fool; what kind of protection could he afford her in a royal court?
None.
He'd be a bull in a china shop, saying the wrong thing, insulting the wrong person, grasping the wrong obscurely shaped little silver spoon.
And yet.
He can't help but feel that vague, generalized concern. On some level he's been tasked - along with his companions - with her safety. Should harm come to her, he'd take it as a great personal failing. Especially after having fortuitously saved her once already.
Lost in his musings, he stops before their new abode and blinks, surprised. It takes him a moment to realize that this is where they're all going to be staying, and when the true nature of the building becomes apparent to him, he turns to Mr. Ruttle and speaks for the first time.
"A fortress? Do you expect a siege?" His voice is gravely and deep, and even though its pitched low it doesn't take much to imagine it booming across a battlefield.
Hefting his pack, he enters along with the others and finds a small room on the ground floor squeezed in behind the kitchen. One high window allows some faint light to filter down to the narrow bed, and he drops his pack and gear and then simply stares down at it, hands on hips, musing. If he's going to do a good job of protecting Dressrossa, he's going to have to get along with the rest of the team.
Finally, he emerges in time to catch the tail end of Leandric and Edmund's conversation in the entrance hall.
"What's you interest in connecting with the Hellknights, Mr. Edmund?"
"It's not just the populace though, no one here likes them. They work according to their own edicts and defy the authority of the City Guard and they don't listen to the city's rulers either." He wanted to make sure Edmund knew what he was getting himself into. "I can try to figure out who their recruiting officer is and what he demands of new armigers."
When Marcus arrived he nodded at the square man but left the answering to Edmund.
"Hmm.. well. It appears the adventure begins. Once more into the breach and all that. I'm guessing that we don't have a proper cellar or pantry here, so perhaps we should see about that Inn we discussed earlier."
With the conversation turning towards more infernal interests, Tellis chimes in reciting what might be practiced line attempting to use humor to deal with a delicate situation in Chellish society: "Oh the Hellnights serve a invaluable role for both the Empire and Prince of Law, and it is a true sacrifice they make giving up both their senses of humor and propriety to achieve this noble task."
Edmund nods back to Leandric.
"Like is not necessary to progress. It is beneficial, to be sure, but fear, discipline, and order promote one's agenda more swiftly, and with less doubt. Sometimes, one must become the hated to do what is necessary. Suffice to say, like is a feeling I have neither the inclination, nor if I were so inclined the ability to inspire in most people. Discipline...discipline I can handle. Yes, Leandric, I will appreciate your inquiries. I know my own would not go as far. People do not seem to like to answer my questions."
Edmund turns his head at Marcus's question. The man had remained so silent the trip, he had faded nearly into the background. Like a peasant should, he thought to himself. Still, the man has proven himself, as well as remaining respectful of his place. He called me Mr, without even being prompted. I think I might like this one.
"I always expect an attack, Marcus. When you look like me, the enemy tends to come to you before you even know who or what to expect...it comes. As for my interest in the Hellknights, it is simple: I will be one. There is no greater honor for a son of Cheliax than to wear the black armor of the Hellknights and bring order to the world, whether it wants it or not."
Marcus listens, arms crossed over his broad chest, eyes lowered, nodding though it's hard to tell if he's convinced or in agreement.
There was so much he could say to this devil spawn. How as a peasant he also always expected attack, how his enemy was not only the bandits, raiders, and thieves, but often the very lords and nobles that were supposed to protect them. He couldn't begrudge the man his desire to arm himself, but his claim that the highest honor was to be a Hellknight...?
Almost he opens his mouth to speak of how the knights are viewed by the lowly masses. Almost. Instead he simply nods, and when Tellis chimes in, he frowns. Was the man making jests at the Hellknight's expense? That spoke of bravery or the height of foolishness. Hoping that Tellis' quip would draw Edmund's attention, he steps back.
Smiling broadly to diffuse the tension, Tellis adds, "Well, until you take your vows, Edmund, let us enjoy the free time we seem to find ourselves with. I for one could do with something besides ship's fare. Mr. Ruttle, perhaps you could recommend an inn or tavern? And please join us if you would."
With the conversation turning towards more infernal interests, Tellis chimes in reciting what might be practiced line attempting to use humor to deal with a delicate situation in Chellish society: "Oh the Hellnights serve a invaluable role for both the Empire and Prince of Law, and it is a true sacrifice they make giving up both their senses of humor and propriety to achieve this noble task."
"Humor has it's place: in the royal court, or on the tavern stage. Life and death aren't joking matters, nor does situation change the facts. Look at our peasant hero, Marcus. He didn't say, 'well, these bandits are starving, and need to eat, too: maybe we should pay their ransom and they'll go away.' No, he gathered a town, put a group of bandits in the ground - where they belong - and saved our new patroness. It's only a pity they didn't suffer more for their audacity. This reminds me, Marcus, I will buy you a bottle of the finest this city has to offer, and you will drink with Tellis and myself. You are an example for your stock." It wasn't phrased as a request.
You are an example of your stock.
Had Marcus not heard countless variations of this exact sentiment from well meaning and often drunken nobles over the past month at the endless balls to which Lady Dressarosa had dragged him, he might have bristled.
Your stock.
Instead, his practice stands him in good stead, and he simply bows his head, fighting the urge to reach up as if to doff an non-existent cap. "Thank you, Mr. Edmund. No need to spend good coin on the finest, though. A decent flagon of ale will do just as well."
Laughing in a genuinely friendly manner, Tellis continues on as if Edmund had merely continued his own jest with his "straight-man" recitation about life and death, while not discounting the validity of the teifling's statement. Tellis claps Edmund on the back and places another hand on Marcus's shoulder. "Well said Edmund... and Wine! That is a fine idea! Come Marcus, and the rest of you! Let us see what fare Mr. Ruttle can find for us... he seems quite capable, after all. Rutland! Come now, lets be off!"
"Don't forget the Hellknights are guests in these lands, as we are. The only power they wield is power that is granted to them but the very groups that do not like them. This isn't Chelish soil, not any more." Somehow both Edmund and Tellis still had the thickness of nobility even while both could barely be considered to belong among them.
Edmund only further cemented that believe when he mentioned Marcus' "stock". The only difference between Marcus and Leandric himself was luck. For a moment he wondered if he could set it up so that Edmund would be refused by the Hellknights but quickly dismissed the thought. What he and Tellis needed was education, not abuse.
"I need to see if I can get myself some more information on this city. Where the movers and shakers go, where the middle class goes and where the unfortunates live."
Skipping over the early statemnt, Tellis focuses on the latter hoping to get beyond the talk of Hellknights and rebel provinces. "Exactly Leandric... we need information. And what better place to find what the common man thinks than a good tavern."
"And what better place to find what the common man thinks than a good tavern."
"A brothel. But I don't really want to do that with all of you, and I already promised Marcus a drink. Yes, man, ale is fine, but at least something more exotic than 'the house keg'. I'm not sure what is popular in the countryside or passes as exceptional, but I'm sure the tender will know more intimately than I. Still...somewhere with a rich brandy would do, if you can find one."
After leaving his belongings in his room and finishing a cursory examination of the premises, Hiram heads towards the sounds of conversation. He is still fully armed and armored.
"Heading out?" he grunts to those gathered. "Fine. Be back before nightfall."
Turning to Ruttle he adds, "The windows upstairs need to be barred, now."
"Good luck contacting my mother if I don't." Leandric smiled at Hiram as he spoke. The old coot was a decent sorts but he could be grumpy. "Relax a bit Hiram. I know part of your job is making sure milady stays safe but she is safe now, at the palace. With a little luck her royal sister will ask her to stay around so that there is enough time to fix the windows."
He then turned to Ruttle, "Now that I think of it. Did you arrange any other guards for this estate? Hounds maybe?"
Hiram crosses his arms, exhaling sharply through his nose.
"She said she will be here tonight," he growls back stubbornly.
"...and her sister said 'No daddy, I promise not to run away and get married without permission.' Clearly their word as a family is suspect. But nevertheless, Hiram, I'll drag these boys back after they're passed out and I'm still standing, just like the last time Tellis sparred with me. Of course you could always join us if you don't trust me."
"Watch your tongue," mutters the mercenary. He glances pointedly towards Ruttle, who was yet unknown to them.
"Fine. I shall come," he grumbles more audibly. "I trust no man in his cups."
When did I become a babysitter?
|
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Mr. Ruttle nods to Hiram. "I will arrange for the proper ironworkers to arrive and construct the bars for the windows. How shall I say we pay them?"
Turning to Leandric, he adds, "My instructions were that guards were to be provided with the entourage. You gentlemen are the guards. I can procure hounds as well."
Then, to the assembled, he finishes, "Then let us head to a local upstanding establishment and enjoy some respite. I shall begin our queries into the required construction here as you partake of sustenance and beverages."
"Unless you can raise the dead I doubt that Hiram, but good luck trying." He smirked. "I don't drink either, at least not more than one or two glasses of wine so I should be just fine."
Mr. Ruttle nods to Hiram. "I will arrange for the proper ironworkers to arrive and construct the bars for the windows. How shall I say we pay them?"
"You figure it out," he gruffs back. "Is that not your job?"
"Unless you can raise the dead I doubt that Hiram, but good luck trying." He smirked. "I don't drink either, at least not more than one or two glasses of wine so I should be just fine."
Hiram does not look amused. Then again, he rarely does.