Tommy has begun to inspect the bag, turning it over and over in his small hands. He runs his fingers over the fabric, checks it for side pouches, delves around inside it. He looks up as the mayor scolds Arolith.

"Noone here is doubting your experience, Arthur." he says, his tone gentle, conciliatory. "But sometimes a new set of eyes can see new things, and some mistakes must be made so we know to fear what we should fear. I appreciate Arolith's perspective. He meant no offense."

He spares a glance at the sword.

"Try... try not wielding it. Just hold it still. Maybe it... wants something. Will it consent to cut wood? Or flesh? Try slicing the ham."

He turns the bag inside-out and back again, his hands busy as he talks.

"Are we waiting for someone, mayor? We've a spare cup." he says, nodding to the eighth tankard.