Lion Head Mesa Wishing You the Best in the Worst Way

This was the first Machiavelli had seen the River-Prince since the night of the feast prepared long ago, and yet somehow he seemed more distasteful now than he had back then—if that were even possible. The golden eyes were not met, the dog only slinking away in silence to lay down what was left of his belongings and complete the task set before him.

My Lord, the words announced the half-breed's sweetly-singsong return. The strongest the store-room has to offer. Berries fermented to perfection and strong in all of the most desirable ways, and perhaps also in ways that were less so.

A low bow offered to the dark-hearted man. Is there any other way I might service you, Highness?