"Ah. The smith is here. Good! Explain to us, why would you choose to deal with the snow bastards instead of our good order!"
Reynard tilted his head to the left, then to the right.
The magi in front of him frowned. They looked like they were made in the same mold: light-haired, fair-skinned, and with noses broken at least a couple of times. One had a narrower face, the other had a long, bushy beard.
"Hey, you were asked a question, smith. What are you looking at?" the bearded magus asked.
"I was just wondering where your baseball bats are. You know, to break my knees."
"Bats? It's winter, they are all asleep," the narrow-faced magus muttered, only to be slapped on his fur hat by the beaded one.
"Idiot! He's just distracting you. Smith, are you going to talk with us at the entrance? You will be so rude and not invite us in?"
Reynard smirked.
