Between a hat to hide his ancestry and an intimidating glare, Tycho found it a simple task to get anywhere that he pleased. Making the best soups and stews in the city certainly didn't hurt either, so he was a hot commodity when it came to catering a royal affair.

A means to an end, he thought to himself over a cauldron full of simmering broth. More money, more power. More power, more dead Orcs.

He muttered a few goodwishes upon the bride and groom, not wanting anything to spoil his payday, and observed the proceedings with interest.