"This seems like an awful lot of money for some people who know magic," Guinevere said as Arthur explained her mission, should she choose to accept it.
"Oh, I assure you, they can be quite tenacious!" he chortled. "I see you have come well-equipped, that's quite a large sword you have there. And in the most lovely colors, too!"
Guinevere's Sieglinde Rose was propped up on the side of the couch, the tip not quite piercing the shag carpeting. "It's a relic of my old hunting days," she said dismissively. "I used to work for the Caravan out in the Shiaran Desert hunting wyverns and dragons for a living."
"Ah, yes, they have a booming Hunters Guild presence out in that area, do they not?" Arthur asked, leaning back into his comfy chair. "Euh, Jameson? Would you please fetch us something to drink?"
"Yes. I will be right back," the massive manservant grumbled. It looked as though he didn't even part his teeth when he spoke. He turned and left the room silently, the marble flooring in the hallway betraying his large footfalls.
"Where'd he come from?" Guinevere asked in a low voice.
"Southern Isles. Wonderful man, likes to maintain a gruff appearance."