“My friend, I zink we will ‘as a duel!”
“Ass what?” said Gerrell. The magical charm that helped him understand the slave speak was trying desperately to decipher this man’s speech.
“We will ‘as a duel!” shouted Lazlo once more.
“Oh, you mean a duel. I wasn’t sure if the translation meant something about your ass or not.” Said the gnome, peering around the coppery scaled man. He looked up at Ares who was rubbing his claws together.
Lazlo looked around, and called out to the crowd. “My friends of the Galloping Goose! We go now to defend the ‘onor of zis establishment!” And he strutted outside followed by a man in orange, and a man in green. Their multicolored feathers waved above the crowd which shuffled outside into the cold to see this spectacle.
Ares looked over at Theros who had a smile on his face that seemed to say something like, “We’re supposed to be keeping a low profile, but this we gotta do.”
The crowd milled around as the trio stood to one side of the muddy, snow channeled road. Lazlo of the burgundy, his friend in orange, and another in green, stood across in a line as if marching to a miniature battle. Simultaneously, each gripped the hilt of their rapiers. Even their feathers seemed to sway in unison. They were about to yell something simultaneously as well when Gerrell’s spell levitated Lazlo right off the mud! His great boots were left behind, stuck, and out popped his purple leggings revealing to all large holes in his ankles and toes. He drifted upwards, swirling around, his rapier slashing outwards. He smashed into the joists holding up the ceiling, and was knocked out. His body hung limp over one of the beams.
The man in orange, looked at the man in green. And for the first time, Theros realized they were mere boys. Way in over their heads. Ares’ smoke began to billow from his snout once, and as he opened his great mouth to shower the two with flames, a voice spoke in his mind.
Dave. Dave. These boys are so young. Let’s just teach them a lesson so we can focus on the mission.
With a rage fueled only by the idiocy of this consciousness in his mind he could not as yet get rid of, Ares roared a mighty roar. Both the men in the colored leggings, fell backwards and knocked their heads into the support beams of the porch. Then, they fell over to a round of applause from the onlookers.
Ares stepped over to the unconscious men, and pulled Lazlo’s body down from the beam it was laying over. He set the lad on the ground, and arranged his hat and clothes. Then he took out Lord Malcolm’s letter.
Lazlo opened his eyes slowly, wincing in pain.
“You’re fired, kid.” Said the dragon man, and he stuffed the letter in Lazlo’s breast pocket.