Something Wicked this way Comes...

[Mr. X]

You find the Ironjaw at his desk in the command post, busily mulling over a mess of parchments.

"Ah, Karazi, Taalkar, come in." He shoves a sheef of papers aside, making some room on his desk, before sitting back with a deep sigh.
"The book keeping they've got me doin' is going to drive me to an early grave. I can hardly remember the last time I hit somethin', either with an axe, or a pick, Ha!" He laughs heartily for a moment before growing serious.
"Listen, I know yer gnawin' the bit about this Noretan business, and believe me, I am too. But we 'aven't a stone to stand on yet, so I'm sendin' ya out o' town before ye do somethin' rash. Citadel's always got an excess of skulls that need smashin', so ye can burn off some steam. Hells, I'm jealous." He spits, before continuing,
The rider 'at came in said they were gettin' more pilgrim's tryin' to head south o'r the 'Way (which is right weird for this time of year) than they could easily deal with, an needed the extra men. So I know it ain't much, but I need you two to go solve all their problems, cuz they're too pissant to deal with them themselves, an' while yer at it, I'll try and come up with somethin' solid to pin on the Noretans. He leans forwards, pointing a thick finger at the both of you, "An' I swear, by all that's holy, and half o' what isn't, if you shirk this order and gallop off back to Mythril Keep, the Council will have your heads, and there won't be a lick that I can do about it. So get yer rations, and be gone by morning."

He picks up a thick sheef of parchments,
"An' get out o' my hair! Lest I make you fill the bleeding ledgers!" He shouts, dismissing you.