Told in a pained voice.

"We just got the cut through to the beastie's fair when I injured my leg. King decided there wasn't much use fer me anymore. Made me a proposition though. Said if I went into the lair and brought out the treasure, he'd feed me till I stopped breathin'. Best deal I had, so they tossed me down here. Not bein' a fool, I lit out for the deepest hidey-hole. Thankfully the beastie was asleep. I can still move real quiet when I must.

"Anyway, if there hasn't been much of an alarm, then drunken Ferd must be on watch at the rock. He's the king's son, so he ain't here with me -- worthless sot. If he's there, he's got less brains than a fermented rat, just act officious and he'll take ya ta the king. Wouldn't mind hearin' of that tyrant's demise. Ya seem just the types ta do it too."

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