"How's the boy doing?"
"Still salivating and sucking on random pebbles?"
"That's not good. We need to do something about it."
"I'm afraid neither old baron, nor his daughter are up for this task. I will take the boy to Ordoniz. Perhaps the High Priest will know how to cure his condition."
Sniff sniff.
"By Mithra, I reek as if I died and came back to life!"
"Make me a warm bath. Don't forget to include some of those breathing salts as well—I still smell rot and dampness deep in my nostrils."
"Brush my armour as well. Carefully. Spot clean it, making sure not to spill to much water on it. Wouldn't want to rust it! Then oil all the joints. Make sure to wipe the oil well. In this universe it is the most flammable substance. I couldn't even tell you how many creatures I killed with a humble oil flask. Yeah, the one that goes into lanterns, yeah. It's the deadliest thing that exists out there.
"Hmmm, I should speak to Alf and Hats about making a repeating oil flask thrower. Just like repeating crossbow, but deadlier. Maybe mount it on a wagon and then just cart it around, eradicating anyone who refuses to pay the toll. Hmm, that might be a good business model."
"Hey, can you fetch the dwarves to join me for a bath? I have some great ideas I'd like to run by them..."