A story of the Sons of Bugman AEC, the third tale of the Path to Glory host of the Hidden Reserve.
Normally, Okbryn would never do this. After all, he still considered himself a duardin of scruples despite his blackened reputation, marred by grudge and half-true slanders, exacerbated by an inability to orate sufficiently for himself (a true detriment in a city of storytellers and blowhards, to be sure) after that Tzeentchian manta tore out his larynx. He followed the Code like all good captains, knowing when to acquiesce to its rigours or to bend it for the good of his crew and the company ledger.
But that same ledger, bound in cured manta-hide and set reverently on a stand of expensive inlaid hardwoods, sought to convince him otherwise with its unprecedented chasm between expenses and income, despite even with that woefully poor deal he cut with the fyreslayers.
It gave us another lead on the Brynzongor’s escort fleet, but little else save repair bills. He shook his head in self-recrimination for that bit of folly.
Chittering frenetically in anticipation, Esme, haffen gastronaut and culinary consultant to their expedition, acted as the ledger’s happy solicitor before the ship’s Bearded Council, which at this moment consisted of Captain Okbryn, Sergeant Kodek, and Mizzenmaster Brynlyn:
“Ahem! As known, most edible duardin make profit because hobgrot and aelf Ghurneth at war, but as before under partially edible Throm, they two will solve problems, end profit.” The pitch began and already elicited bearded (and unbearded) frowns, “But profit need not end like sweet, delectable buffet cut short. There is opportunity to extend shelf life and to build community biome by inviting one’s neighbours to share feast!”
Duardin silence met Esme’s showman’s smile, a visage made less appealing by the baring of his filed-to-sharpness teeth. The haffen didn’t seem bothered and gnattered on.
“Many times, Esme has been mistaken for inedible hobgrot. Haffen and hobgrot almost the same cut, like small tenderloins, but different in meat colour and flavour, difficult for most to know without tasting and retching if wrong choice. Aelf Ghurneth too busy with boasts, never bother to remember difference, so if haffen act, Ghurneth will think it is hobgrot. Blame utterly inedible Bor, who known already as rotten leavings. If they have new problems, they will not solve problems between them. Profit-feast continues!”
Okbryn had already heard the plan when the gastronaut confided it with him earlier, but for the benefit of his advisors, he explicated, “What you are suggesting *bzzt* is sabotage.”
“Won’t that go against our contract with the hobgrots?” Brynlyn rubbed a calloused hand across her short-shorn black hair, green eyes seeking glimpses of her captain’s thought process.
“Tuh defend his shipments,” the canny-eyed Kodek Amberstock of the Grundstok Company’s 5th Skalfhammer regiment, the Hidden Reserve’s security escort, recited the terms. “Tuh answer calls for aid, which we have done and more to satisfaction.”
“Yes, *bzzt* we have.” Okbryn acknowledged with a tight nod. “We eschewed the reinforcement of the Frosty Mug in exchange for its *zrrt* bearing the amberbone to Hysh, a trip Captain Aerynson has assured our hobgrot partner he is willing to conduct ‘as many times as necessary.’”
Brynlyn pursed her lips together thoughtfully, eyes moving as she considered the calculus of the Code. At last, she shrugged and smiled a lopsided smile. “No further qualm. Let’s hear the rest of it then, little one.”
Esme eagerly continued. “The aelf Ghurneth greatly value harmonious lifestyle with edible beasts, abhor waste in the same way haffen would never throw leftovers. Hobgrot wasteful and petty predator, will kill for fun, or only slice fin and leave other meat to rot. Hobgrot also have access to many danger-edibles from bog, small doses good as garnish, but large doses poison meat of pack if taint in water. Ghurneth will be forced to watch meat waste and feel wroth.”
Haffen and hobgrots not too disalike, Esme’s crazed sharp-toothed grin belied that he, too, would find pleasure in the moral suffering of the aelfs. “All duardin need do is contract more haffen than only Esme to dress as hobgrot. Be seen poisoning water. Other strangers can see, yes? Like fake-meat strangers who we saw talk to Bor. Many forget haffen are here, will think we are hobgrots. Then tell to Ghurneth a lie they believe truth!”
Disconcertingly, Esme vibrated as the whole plan finally tumbled out, then exclaimed. “Esme love mess! Duardin love profit. We feast together.”
Gazul’s patience. For the crew’s sake, I hope not all haffen are like this one if we’re to bring in more.
Okbryn stood and stoically faced his advisors. “And so, if there are no *zrrt* objections, we can move this Trommraad forward to discuss the logistics of this… *zz* protection of our financial interests.”
There would be no objections. It was just business, after all.
