‘You sodden-witted fustilarian!’ he hissed. ‘You addle-brained walking cataclysm – how, I ask you, are we supposed to distract the fucking Iron Orchids? Do you expect me to yank down my trousers and wave my cock at the enemy in hopes they fall on their swords in astonishment and despair at beholding such a kingly sceptre?’
