8th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
2:15 PM
The Lord’s Arena

Tarin smiled an acknowledgment of the ambassador’s compliment, and as the Rhetizian measured him, the Inquisitor offered an explanation. “I have found after many years’ experience, that all men, mad or otherwise, respond to properly-administered incentives. The true difficulty lies in finding the correct incentive for the occasion.”

As Ghedim leaned forward, Tarin mirrored his motion, causing a worried grimace to play over Marcos’ face for a moment. At the ambassador’s comment about their host, a wicked twist developed in his smile, before smoothing out as though it had never been. Glancing at the large cooling units scattered around the club, Tarin added, “It would seem that inconveniences are the least of one’s worries when dealing with the Guild, however. Perhaps you’ve heard the strange rumors of a mechanical thing attacking Sorcerers and guardsmen alike? I wonder if they’ll be able to pass that off as an accident, or fluke or some such?” The Inquisitor kept a watch on the ambassador’s face, gauging his response to his conspiratorial tone.