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Lord Wishock, like all men, has his weaknesses. His happens to be a fondness for liquor. The hypocrisy is astounding. The trite fool spends his days trying to shut down our little "tavern" while his nights are spent upstairs, running up a bill he never pays. Well, let's see how Wishock likes this special brew I have prepared for him: Black Claw stout. It's got quite a kick, ‹namn›.
Take it to him and see how he likes it. Most likely the old fool is milling about the Hall of Petitioners.
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Can you not see that I am busy? My words must be heard! I am very important to the future of this Kingdom!
Oh... what have you there? Why it looks like a refreshing drink...
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Ah, thank you for bringing me this fine looking stout, servant. Here's a copper for you. Now, out of sight with you and let me enjoy my drink!