4

Her face goes white and her nostrils seal into draconic slits. You shan't live the quip down anytime soon, though in the moment you hardly care. [+Knavery] [-Malodoro]

"Ah, to suffer fools," the Steward says, trying hard to master herself.

"There," Malodoro says to the crew as they hang the final painting. She dusts off her hands as if she had been conducting the lifting all along.

"Excellence is what is expected of you, Bandochel, and while occasionally passable, there was at least one grievous fault last night," she clips, giving a shrug.

"I have learned that there is only one tool for shaping a fool's behavior—the whipping post."

She snaps her fingers and two of the crew, after a brief hesitation, clomp towards you. "Madame," you begin, backpedaling and raising your hands.

"I do not care for you, nor do I care for your input," she says in a businesslike fashion. "I merely care that your behavior be improved the next time you are so privileged as to appear with the company before His Grace."

Moments after the laborers seize you, one on each arm, she brings her face close to yours. "Enjoy the rest of your day," she whispers.

Onward