Martin and Marcel sit idly on a felled tree near the construction site, the Black swordsman puffing idly at a small clay pipe full of some unnamed substance. He squints one bleary eye and raises an enquiring brow at the construction underway… the seed of an idea germinating in his mind.
After a deep pull on the pipe, he mutters to his manservant… "Marcel, zis little dwarf, he seem quite involved here, who is he? What is his name?"
"Master, it calls itself HOP FROG. Richard Loubou found it outside of Quasqueton, and then it came back here and started banging nails."
"Hmph… I suppose ze company needs uh… le administrative staff… he seems good with ze help and a hard worker… okay, I'm going to give him some orders! You tell him we'll be moving into the basements, and to provide drawings of ze underground levels of ze house for me to write on… The top floors have entirely too many windows, and the rooms are too airy. We need dank, gloomy spaces, and plenty of little nooks and crannies for your cousins when we move the rest of the gang in, eh?"
"Yes master. I will proclaim your command."
Tapping the last of the pipe's exotic mixture out on his heel, Martin gives a vague and imperious wave and strolls off towards town.