Parisos nods vigorously with relief.
"Kon-Tao's plan would be our best bet I think. I am not at all confident in my powers of persuasion."
"Very well, then," says Senator Croy, "best be about averting this situation then. We'll be better off if no one ends up bleeding all over the promenade."
Meanwhile, down below, the redfaced old Senator finishes an official declaration demanding satisfaction. His younger counterpart gives a sly grin. "Excellent. I choose blades. Are you armed, or shall I have my aide scrounge up a spare for you?"
Well, He thought to himself, maybe I can bluff them...
Gritting his teeth, Master Parisos stepped forward until he was between the combatants.
He slammed is staff into the ground three times
"HERE YE, HERE YE! A DUEL HAS BEEN AGREED TO! THE WEAPONS WILL BE STUN BATONS!" He declaimed in a sonorous official voice.
He paused for a moment for sputtering outrage from one or both principles.
"BECAUSE LETHAL DUELS HAVE BEEN SUSPENDED UNTIL THE END OF THE PRESENT STATE OF EMERGENCY! BY THE WILL OF THE SENATE OF THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE, IPSO FACTO, POX VOBISCUM, ET AL!" He said, throwing in a few words of the incredibly archaic Ancient Arman language.
He bowed formally and stepped back.
The gathered crowed erupts into a variety of reactions to Master Parisos' announcement--agreement, confusion, outrage--and it takes a minute for things to quiet down enough to get things sorted out. The guardsmen move in to ensure things remain civil, and Croy, giving Parisos a nod as he moves in to help, assures them that he'll have this peaceably arranged.
Kon Tao has a couple of prototypes he's fairly certain he can get up and running by tomorrow. They'll be woefully short on power, but should last to see a winner in a duel. The two Senators grudgingly agree to the contest, which is set to take place in the Senatorial Arboretum at noon the next day, as per Broderick's suggestion.
Kon-Tao is able to get a couple of working prototypes up and running by the appointed time on the morrow. The two Senators, after being briefed on their function and taking some time to get used to the weight and feel of them (the machinesmith having catered to the opponents, altering the weapons to approximate the length and balance of dueling blades) lay into each other, with the younger Graff able to knock his opponent unconscious, but not until both have had their fair share of shocking hits with the batons.
The following day, the lot of you are assembled with Senator Croy, awaiting the wizard assigned to teleport you to the village of Oldenhaffen, nestled in the Grit Mountains of the Caneus Empire.
After a wait of several minutes, a robed figure hustles toward your group, where you stand surrounded by your gear. A tall, lean man with drooping mustaches and an alarmingly red nose hurries up to you and gives a gesture of deference to Senator Croy before putting a handkerchief to his nose and snuffling.
Croy frowns. "Where is Tasker?" he asks.
"Sorry, Senator. He sends his apologies, but he's unable to comply with your request. He's asked me to see to the task," the man replies, his red-rimmed eyes looking apologetic.
Croy sighs. "Well, so long as they get off speedily. Time is of the essence." He turns to your group.
"Be well. You should be able to find someone to take you to Sir Otto once you arrive. Arrangements have been made for a per diem to cover any minor expenses during your stay." At Croy's gesture, Aldern hands Broderick a piece of parchment stating that the local authorities will see that any local shops, inns, taverns, and such are duly compensated for your needs.
Kon-Tao raises a hand. "Why is this Tasker unable to comply?"
Master Parisos nodded, drawing on his pipe.
At Kon-Tao's question he raised an eyebrow, also curious.
The rheumy-eyed man sniffles and dabs at his nose again with the handkerchief.
"He's in the midst of some rather delicate arcane research--time-sensitive experimentation--and can't leave the lab. Rather than delay Senator Croy's expedition, he asked that I take his place. I have been to the destination before, and have the power necessary to transport the lot of you."
Sense Motive
He seems sincere, and perhaps slightly put out, as he's having to do this menial task while having a bad case of the sniffles.
Master Parisos nodded.
"Well then; let us continue."