Morgan leaned slightly, whispered to the Mage, "Lynch, although I don't like prophecies either, nobody can badmouth the Elf Queen. So could you perhaps turn that southern young lad into a mouse or something?"
"Then I'll turn you into a cat," Lynch said with a mischievous smile. He cut off the elf's questioning and suddenly said, "Let's hear the Dwarf's opinion first, my friend Morgan just happens to have something to say."
Big Beard was taken aback, not understanding what Lynch meant. Have something to say? He never had such an idea. However, it seemed that the bench under Morgan suddenly grew teeth and gave a sharp bite. The pained Dwarf cried out and jumped up, arms protecting his backside.
'You have to say something, don't you?' Morgan's mind was in a whirl, muttering to himself. Being watched by a large group felt worse than being surrounded by Snake-men. "Ah... I believe... we will win!" said the Dwarf.
