Something Smells Foul

Winston carefully place the crate with a message from Idled on a collection of bottles that Indigoblade had not included into his pyramid being constructed on his desk. “Idled, sir.”

“No, no..I’m quite busy, Winston.” Indigoblade gave his butler a lopsided drunk grin. “My latest organization chart.” With one hand he waved toward his tower of bottles. “The Bottleneck Bandit Clan!  I didn’t need a contest to think of that beauty.”

“Clearly no idle thinking on your part, sir. I’ll inform the agents about the contest ending.” Winston lightly tapped the crate’s edge. “Idled has stated he won’t ask again abou..”

“Excellent! Then this matter is behind us. Let Forzane know to reduce production of those blue torches, gear up slightly on green candlesticks and toss in any other color he thinks would light up the sky in Skyrim.” Indigoblade was firing off orders while Winston simply stared at him with the standard blank Breton look.

“Very well, I’ll send the message to not light up the Skyrim sky but simply to add more color to torches and candlesticks.” Winston flicked off a piece of dust from one bottle nearby and wiggled his nose to prevent from sneezing. “Now if I might, sir.  I don’t believe Author Idled meant he would no longer ask but that he meant he would no longer ask nicely.”

Indigoblade sobered up by five percent with this news. “Did Idled go to Skyrim recently?”

“He did.”

“When Tony was there?” The calendar pages were being madly flipped through.

“He was.”

“TONY!” Indigoblade yelled as he ran for his liquor cabinet.