“Kesten, you beardless bastard!” Kesten sighed as the gruff shout came to him over the crowded seats of the Wench. He turned from his seat at the bar to see Ulgar pushing his way towards him, slightly redder in the face than usual.
“To what do I owe the- “
“Not in the mood, Kesten. Shut yer trap until I’m ready. Kaydee!” The Gnome bounced over from the other end of the bar. “4 ales. Oh, and another for Kesten.”
Ulgar settled into his seat slightly and gripped the bar, his knuckles white. Kesten sat, somewhat confused, regarding the Dwarf, who seemed on the verge of hyperventilation.
“Y’know, Kesten. We have laws for a reason, right? Granted, they’re a pathetic excuse for a constitution, and if we had just slain them in the barn none of this would’ve been an issue. But that’s not the way it played out. Fine. Sodding dandy. We could at least handle this in a manner that seems reasonable and lawful. Many of the Councilors are seriously considering letting these damned girls run free after all of this. I realize that Gideon’s put his soapbox on and is pushing for tolerance of the less savory Gods of the great pantheons, but this is plain ridiculous. Does anyone really think that giving them a gentle slap on the wrist and releasing them is going to solve a sodding thing? Sure, the softer ones among them will feel guilty about this whole situation and renounce Gyrian- or whatever her name is- but most of them will go straight back to it, and some of them may even take the excuse to push that much harder next time. The problem needs to be dealt with, not left to fester in the capital like some kind of boil that everybody refuses to pop. Do you know what the real solution is, Kesten? Do you?” Ulgar’s long rant was punctuated by swigs of ale, which had managed to drain two of the four tankards before him. Kesten took a moment to consider his drink, and then turned to the Dwarf, taking a breath to speak.
“Death. Kill them. It’s the only way to be Gods damned sure about it. They will cause no more problems. It’s the ultimate consequence. But no. We’re all too soft in the head to take life, apparently. Y’know what, that’s fine too! But we could at least give them some time in the dungeon. We do have a dungeon, don’t we? Whatever daft heads you all chose to design this sad pile of stones you all like to call a castle better have given it a Gods damned dungeon.” Ulgar finally took a long pause and seemed to calm down, drinking the last of his share of ale. “Come. We should get back to chambers.”
“Ulgar?” Kesten turned to the Dwarf as he was standing to leave.
“Why don’t you say any of this to the whole council?”
“Do you think I’m an idiot? I have no interest in alienating myself from the whole group. Who among the whole rabble do you think would actually agree with me? One Dwarf shaking his fist at a room full of people will do nothing. The whole point of a council is to reach a decision through a majority. I’m the absolute minority in this situation. If that’s my sodding lot, then fine. I’ll take care of the army- you idiots can do the rest.” With that, Ulgar shoved his way back out of the Wench.