Gruntle wasted no time in getting to the table, pushing a chair aside to crouch at the nearest set of plates and silverware, and reaching for the biggest piece of meat in sight. Seeing the donkey follow closely behind dragging the cart into the room, combined with the smell of the food and the realization of just how hungry he felt, broke Al's resistance. Without another word, he trudged into the room and sat heavily down onto the chair next to Gruntle. He picked up a fork and used it to drag a thick slice of roasted beef onto his plate. "Why fight it? Come on in," he called back to Wikwocket and Bote. He firmly but gently pushed a curious donkey's head away and selected a knife to cut the meat with.

  "By your command, magical sword hero!" Wikwocket cheered. She marched into the room with comically exaggerated precision. Bote entered and patted Haunch's neck before reaching to unhitch the donkey from the cart.

  "I'll arrange some oats for your hungry donkey before he does something unnatural," Patrick said as Haunch seemed to be taking a lot more interest than expected in the platter of venison that Gruntle had been picking from. "Make yourselves comfortable, I'll be right back!"

  "We'll be here!" Wikwocket called back with a wave and jumped up onto a chair. She grabbed a fork and speared a few pieces of cheese and meat to put on her plate, but leaned out to listen as Patrick picked up the paintings in the hall and walked away.

  "All right, what's our negotiation strategy here?" she asked the others as the footsteps faded away down the hallway. She laughed at the nearly identical questioning noises both Al and Gruntle made around the food stuffed in their mouths. "I know his type. He's like a theater owner, he's going to want to get us to give him as much crowd-attracting spectacle as possible and pay us as little as he can get away with. We'll need a good strategy if we're going to get him to pay us what he should!"

  "I just wanted to make sure we had a way to keep Gruntle safe from people while we were here. And keep people safe from him, obviously," Al said as he searched the pitchers on the table for one that didn't have something strongly alcoholic in it.

  "That kind of attitude is how you end up being a starving exploited artist!"

  "This is kind of the opposite of starving," Al pointed out as he pulled a piece of bread from a nearby loaf and used a spoon to spread a generous amount of butter on it.

  Wikwocket reached out and tore a drumstick from a roasted chicken on the table. She took a bite and then used it to point at Al for emphasis.

  "That's how they get you!" she said as she chewed. "Hey, this is good! But the point is they do this to soften you up so you don't negotiate hard and you end up not even getting paid enough to live properly. You've got to push back to get what you're worth!"

  "He's not hiring me," Al said, "and I suspect Gruntle doesn't really care as long as he's fed and has an outlet for his urges."

  "In a manner of speaking, he is hiring you," Bote corrected, "as the leader of the people who are the owners of the exotic gnoll spectacle he wants to make use of. Only people can make business deals, and obviously gnolls are monsters, not people."

  Al stopped eating in surprise. "I really didn't think you felt that way."

  "I do not. However, Patrick and most others we meet will. They have only known gnolls as violent murderous beasts. To them, we are seen as something like keepers of a tamed dangerous animal."

  "And that's why this negotiation is so important!" Wikwocket added. "This is our chance to introduce Gruntle to the public and show them he's not only a dangerous violent beast that kills people!"

  Al turned that thought over in his head.

  "You remember that Patrick wants him to kill and maim people in front of the public, right?"

  "And they'll love it! It's violence for the public, for the good of society and so on! That has value that should be compensated for!" said Wikwocket. "And the more pay there is, the more there'll be the perception of value, and once we're well-known it'll mean more pay in future jobs!"

  "I know it is still uncomfortable for you, but if things go well, some celebrity for Gruntle should make his presence in populated places less of a concern," Bote said. "Of course, we could instead camp in hidden places away from towns like common bandits, and rely on notoriety to get jobs to seek us out."

  "Ooo, that could be fun!" Wikwocket agreed. "But, building up a reputation that way would take a lot longer, and we'd miss out on a lot of experiences you can only have in towns and cities. We wouldn't get to eat like this very often."

  "I wasn't suggesting that," Al said. "It's just... you're right, I am uncomfortable with it. I agree with you that having Gruntle become more well-known will probably cause fewer problems than trying to keep him hidden. I just worry about new problems that might come with it."

  "Like being mobbed by admirers or being invited to too many fancy dinners at once and having to turn some of them down!"

  "Or being tracked down by survivors of a gnoll raid looking for revenge, or being constantly watched by the local guards, and things like that."

  "Exactly! So we need to make sure Gruntle's public debut leads to as much popularity as possible! We're not just negotiating about money here, it's also about working conditions and perks! So, what do we want?"

  "I want to be able to do some research without worrying about something happening to Gruntle... or Gruntle happening to something, either way."

  Wikwocket shook her head and poured herself some wine from a decanter on the table. "What about you, Gruntle, what do you want? You're the one that's going to be doing all the violent work!"

  Gruntle crunched through the meaty bone in his mouth and chewed a few times before swallowing and answering with a grunt of agreement.

  "Do the violence," he clarified, then grabbed another piece of meat from a platter. Haunch snorted as it was pulled away before the donkey could bite into it himself.

  "Maybe just let me do the talking then. Some people just have no ambition," Wikwocket said, sipping the wine. "Hey, this is good, too! We'll include regular meals like this in the terms!"

  "Entschuldigung, bitte," said a dwarvish voice from the doorway, "I do not know why but I have been asked to bring you..."

  Al turned to look. The dwarf in the doorway wore an open-faced helmet and a traditional breastplate covered by a tabard with the shackles-and-wall heraldry on it, and held a feedbag in one hand. The long tight braids of their beard swung as they looked around at the spectacle at the table.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Is that a gnoll?" the dwarf asked, watching the murderous demonic creature and a donkey trying to eat ham from the same bone.

  "That's right!" Wikwocket answered, "Is that Haunch's oats?"

  "This is for a donkey? You have a gnoll and a donkey in here?"

  "Alles in Ordnung," Bote reassured the guard, not very successfully.

  "I will simply leave this here for you then," the dwarvish guard said, setting the feedbag on the floor next to the door and then backing away into the hallway.

  The door swung shut.

  "Hey! What...?"

  Al stood at the sound of a key turning in the lock. Heavy booted dwarven footsteps hurried away before Al reached the door. He pushed. The door was locked. Al sighed and pressed his forehead against the door.

  "I really don't have the energy right now, but if they've just locked us in a prison cell I'm going to be very angry after I've gotten some rest." He turned back to the table. He felt no surprise to see Gruntle obliviously continuing his feast. Wikwocket looked thoughtful.

  "Just for that, I'm asking for bigger blankets and a silk pillowcase for Sir Fluffington."

  Haunch resisted the feedbag at first, but settled into contentedly eating oats once Al got it over the donkey's head. Al had just enough time to sit back down and resume eating before the indistinct sound of a conversation down the hallway started. Patrick's recognizable laughter followed.

  "Herr Direktor, you should really inform us of such things!" complained a dwarven voice, which only increased the laughter. Footsteps approached, a key turned in the lock from outside, and Patrick pulled the door open again.

  "My apologies!" a still-laughing Patrick said, "I didn't expect her to actually lock you in! How are you enjoying the feast?"

  "It's good," Al admitted, "but I like it better when I'm not locked in with it."

  "And you owe us bigger blankets and a pillowcase!" Wikwocket added defiantly.

  "Straight to the negotiations, eh? I like your enthusiasm! All right then, let's get to it!"

  Patrick approached the nearest unoccupied chair, spun it around, and straddled the seat.

  "As I'm sure you're aware, I want to hire the use of your gnoll for the public punishment of criminals. I'm told he'll like doing that sort of thing, so I'm doing you a favor, really."

  "We appreciate that, but Gruntle's no ordinary gnoll, he's a professional gnoll!" Wikwocket replied. "You're not going to find that anywhere else, and that's premium value that deserves a premium wage! There's plenty of adventuring work he could be doing right now, you know!"

  "I can't imagine there's much of that inside the city, though," Patrick countered, his smile widening and taking on a slightly predatory edge.

  "There is if you know where to look, why, we literally just took care of a job on the way here! Gruntle helped us save a whole neighborhood from exploding, burning down, and being eaten by slime-potion monsters!"

  Patrick cast a skeptical glance towards Al and Bote.

  "That's a bit of an exaggeration," Al said.

  "But not untrue, strictly speaking. Had we not happened by at the right time, things could have been quite tragic for the surrounding area.

  "See? So, we've got to make it worth his time! What's your opening offer?"

  "A very generous one, of course, appropriate to the uniqueness of your services. A full two percent of the admission fees on days that we use your gnoll, and free room and board here in this luxurious room."

  "Oh, I see," Wikwocket commented, "you like negotiation and you want this one to go on for a long time, if you're starting with that. A crowd-pleasing artist such as Gruntle will bring in plenty of spectators and their money! I'm sure you know in-demand talent in those situations are customarily offered at least thirty percent!"

  "That only happens for proven, well-established performers, as I'm sure you know. We haven't actually seen how well your gnoll will do out there yet. I do see how much it will cost to feed you all, though," Patrick said with a wave towards the half-emptied platters of food on the table. "This is also the most comfortable place you'll find to stay in here, if not the only place. You'll have a hard time finding somewhere that will let you bring a donkey into your room, and none that'll even open their doors if you show up with a gnoll. I like you, though. How about seven percent?"

  "Be honest, are you or your audience really going to be satisfied with just seven percent worth of the exciting show you could be getting? I've seen Gruntle fight a bear, and he once bit a demon!"

  Al listened as Wikwocket retold the stories of some of Gruntle's fights from the last few weeks in gruesome detail. He held back the occasional urge to speak up about some of the embellishments, thinking nervously about how much trouble they could run into if the negotiations fell through and they had to leave. Even at night, the long walk back from the middle of the city to the gates held plenty of opportunity for disturbance of the peace, misunderstandings leading to violence, accusations of keeping a dangerous creature in the city without a permit, or any number of other situations that could escalate badly before they could get beyond the city walls. Fortunately, Patrick seemed to enjoy the stories whether he believed them or not. The haggling progressed closer to agreement.

  "How soon could you have him ready for his first punishment of a criminal?" Patrick asked as the stories wound down.

  "He's practically ready now!" Wikwocket promised. "Give him a night to rest up and digest this fine food and he'll be ready to provide all the violence you could want!"

  Gruntle grunted in agreement around a hefty beef leg-bone that he was gnawing on.

  "Excellent! Glad to hear it! Fact is, we've got someone who'd be perfect for his debut whose punishment we've been putting off because nobody had come up with a really fitting one yet."

  "Now, wait a minute," Al interrupted, "there's one possible problem. Gruntle is very good at the killing, but we're still not sure if he can reliably stop himself if he's supposed to leave someone alive."

  "Oh, that won't be a problem. Puppycrusher is very sentenced to death," Patrick assured him.

  "Puppycrusher?"

  "Jonathan Curminder. Animal abuse, animal-fighting, unlicensed gambling. I see some truly depraved people in here, and even I think he's terrible. You know about the werewolves, right?"

  "We've heard, yes. Sounds like this person was a major part of the problem?"

  "Very much so. He did most of the really dirty work, colluding with one of the nobles' kids to deal with bribes and such. Guard's still looking for that one."

  "You mean Charlie Smitherton?"

  "Yeah, he got away during the raid where they captured Puppycrusher. Heard any news?"

  "You might say that, we ran into him on the way here from Hell's Bathtub. We've got him on the cart there."

  "Alive?" Patrick asked hopefully, taking a step towards the cart.

  "Very much not, no. We didn't have any idea who he was when we encountered him, and he was immediately violent when we did."

  "Do not worry," Bote said, "by divine grace, his remains will be free of corruption until the captain returns to collect him."

  "That's a shame, though, the crowd gets especially excited when the upper-class gets punished. Would have been great to have them both ripped apart by a gnoll."

  "Charlie actually was, Gruntle got him."

  Patrick brightened up.

  "Hey, if Will doesn't have any complaints, we can mention that when we announce your gnoll! That'll stir some conversation! Assuming we're agreed on the terms and can sign a contract?"

  "I think we're just about there. You've been nice to us, so I'll cut you a break and accept your last offer and bigger blankets, and a silk pillowcase for Sir Fluffington!" Wikwocket answered.

  "A pleasure doing business with you!" Patrick said with complete sincerity as far as Al could tell. He rose from his chair, and clasped hands with Wikwocket to informally finalize the deal. "I've got a template of the contract in my pocket, we can fill in the numbers and additional clauses and sign it, and I can leave you all to rest up for tomorrow."

  He released Wikwocket's hand and strode around the table towards Gruntle.

  "And you, you beautiful beast," Patrick said with a slightly manic grin, reaching out to gently squeeze the muscles around Gruntle's jaw, "You are going to be magnificent!"

  Gruntle froze stiff, and gave a small, confused whine and pleading gaze in Al's direction.

  Al wondered how it was that the man's hand was still attached to his arm.

  The little pig-flavored people of his new clan sometimes said strange, incomprehensible things. One such thing Gruntle had heard more than once is the complaint that social things are complicated. They really aren't, though. When interpreting a new situation involving other clan-members, either someone is meek towards you and acknowledges your dangerousness and superiority, adopting a submissive attitude, or they are excessively bold and challenging your dominance. The former should be allowed and encouraged to continue in order to provide a good example to others, and the latter should be immediately put in their place, to discourage others from getting ideas - unless of course the other is obviously more dangerous in which case you submit in order to live until you have a good opportunity to knock them down in the future.

  Patrick's unhesitating handling felt a great deal like a dominance challenge, but it was being done in a context of clearly praising and acknowledging Gruntle's superior dangerousness.

  What are you supposed to do when someone is too boldly submissive?

  Instinct failed to provide an answer. Maybe social things are complicated, sometimes.

  The Heart Grows published today, while the April 1st installment(s) I've been plotting for Empirical Gnollage for some time now aren't even written yet.