“Good evening, gentlemen. What seems to be the issue?" Prof asked them in Greenskinian. This time, he hasn''t forgotten to use [Observe] on the other party. For one, possibly the leader, he only got the return of "Level 11", the others were just Level 5 to Level 8 "normals". All were clothed in cheap leather, wielding clubs and cudgels. Prof hoped he could defuse the situation with diplomacy – not that his Skill in [Diplomacy], [Convincing], or [Intimidation] was very good. There were times when a crazed Vampire was useful.


    “The stall closed! Move away!” the gang boss declared in broken Greenskinian


    “Is that so? This has to be a mistake. I don’t remember closing it.”


    “Hah! We close it! We are Yellow Horse Security Company.”


    “Oh! And what gives you the right to close the stall?”


    “We are Yellow Horse Security Company, we given… ehmmm… how do you say… authority to close stalls!”


    “Given authority by whom?" Prof had an idea. It was clear, neither the party, nor the band had hired the so-called security company, and he doubted very much, the owner of the racetrack did so, without telling them. Or gave the hired help the authority to randomly close stalls. Random stalls, that were operated by the party and the band.


    “Old Goblin. How do you call position, Tiny Tim?” He asked a two-meter tall man with an almost thirty centimeters long beard.


    “Not-Guildmaster, boss.”


    “Yes, what he said!”


    “You mean the not-Guildmaster of the Musician’s not-Guild?” the security company nodding confirmed Prof’s suspicion. That slimy old… slime! “I don’t think, that old Goblin has the right to close a stall. If you can’t prove he has the right, and what kind of infraction the stall did, please leave and don’t hinder and prevent.”


    Prof wasn''t good in law, no matter if on Earth or on Arkadia, but he learned enough from all those TV shows. Threatening the other party with hindering and preventing was a trick, Wilhelm taught him.


    If the other party was Greenskins, the trick may have even worked. Unfortunately, they were Humans. Either because they didn’t give a damn, or were too dumb to understand the threat, they puffed themselves up.


    “No! We be paid for closing stall! Beat up stall if not closed!”


    “You sure about that?” Prof put his hand on his axes. If diplomacy wasn’t going to cut it, he would continue with intimidation.


    “Yes! You are two, we are six!” Obviously, Prof’s [Intimidation] check failed, just like the security officer’s one for [Mathematics]. Prof had two friends with him, not counting the stall''s "workers", who inconspicuously inched forward, brandishing crowbars and cudgels on their own. Prof swept his gaze over his party and had to concede, the ruffian could indeed count. Sharpclaw was nowhere to be found.


    Of course, the little Kobold wasn''t the stand-up and fight kind. She was the sneak around stealthily and stab you in the back kind. It would have been a legendary, flashy move if Sharpclaw had taken advantage of the moment to put a knife to the Human''s throat.


    There was only one problem with that: Sharpclaw was waist-high, so it was physically impossible for her to reach a grown Human man''s throat. She could, however, reach the most important organs of every male without problems.


    Even so, she didn''t make her sharp claws or even sharper knives known at that precise moment. Such convenient, well-timed events happened only in stories and movies.


    Prof wasn''t exactly sure, how the Greenskins legally handled such situations. Would it count as self-defense, if he killed or seriously wounded the thugs? Would he need to wait for them to attack him first? Would clubs and cudgels considered lethal weapons, and him using axes as an excessive force?


    Prof decided, to give defusing the situation another chance. Going to prison wasn’t on his to-do list – dungeons were there to plunder them, not sitting around in them, chained to a wall.


    “If you continue with the obstruction and threats, I will be forced to contact the guards. This is clearly an illegal action you are doing. Your master doesn’t have jurisdiction over the stall or the concert. Just walk away.”


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    “Oops…” the head thug accidentally pushed a couple of mugs from the stall’s desk “I’m so clumsy. Oops, I did it again!”


    Could it have been done in any more cliché way? Even that goofy, false smile was there. That smile turned immediately into horror, though.


    “I clumsssy too… Hand ssssslipsss easssy! Tsssug not move!" Well, Sharpclaw did have a notion of dramatic entry, after all. With sharp claws pressed against the orbs of procreation, she put the head thug in a pinch. It was almost certain, he wouldn''t fight tooth and nail anymore. Not against a Kobold, holding his future in her hands.


    “Just to be sure, you understand the situation correctly, I will translate." since Sharpclaw didn''t speak Greenskinian, and Prof wasn''t sure, the security company understood garbled Bergian, so he decided to be polite and help them out. "She is quite clumsy, and her hands slip easily. In order to not cause a very painful accident, I would recommend you stand completely still. If you understand, please jump up and down. All right, no need to blanch, you can just nod."


    That was probably a tiny bit cruel, but Prof was hanging around Mini for a long time now, and as such things went, not just dirt got stuck on him. The workers, led by Bianca, surrounded the other thugs in the meantime.


    “So, since you hadn’t just walked away, I will have to charge for damages. How many mugs have they destroyed?”


    “About three dozen, that we are aware of.” Answered the Hob in charge of the stall “Half of them printed, the other half the normal ones from the brewery.”


    “Let''s see… A printed mug comes to fifteen Groschen, a simple one to around ten. That would be four and a half Schillinge. Since your interference caused no sales to be possible, a loss in income has occurred. How long did the obstruction occur?"


    “Ten minutes, or so.”


    “So, each minute, ten beers could have been sold…"


    “It’s just six” the Hob helped him. Being excellent to each other obviously precluded the fleecing of thugs.


    “Thank you very much. Sixty beers not sold, with a beer costing ten Groschen, you caused the loss of further six Schillinge. The wage for the runner, the bartenders, and the cost of the involvement of myself, a highly skilled shieldmaiden, and an assassin could be summed up to another Schilling. You owe us eleven and a half Schillinge. Let''s call it twelve because the negotiation already took time and the service is still impossible. How do you intend to pay your debt?"


    Having a passable Level in [Commerce] helped immensely in the negotiation. Maybe even [Looting]. Definitely, the countless times, when he was fined by the Elves.


    “You want twelve Schillinge from us?! That’s more than we were paid!”


    “I don’t see how that influences the damage you have caused.”


    “But we don''t have anywhere enough money for that! We have no money at all!"


    “Everyone but the boss, strip.”


    “Please no!”


    “Oh, come on, Bianca. They won’t show the family jewels! Right? Good. Now, please move away from the stall. You already have collected another fifty Groschen debt.”


    The thugs grudgingly inched away from the stall, closely observed by the workers and Bianca. As soon as they were out of the way, they started to strip down to their underwear, throwing everything into a pile. Prof didn''t expect much from them, but the result was disappointing even so. The value of the five sets of cheap armor didn''t even cover half the debt he calculated. The clothing, including boots and hoods, was basically worthless. He would be happy if he was able to sell the whole for maybe twenty Groschen or so. The weapons had only a symbolic worth as firewood.


    It was time to engage [Looting]!


    He went through the pile again, patting down everything, looking for hidden pockets or hidden valuables. He even looked at the hands of the debtors, hoping they have hidden something. The loot was nothing the bards would sing songs about. Barely a handful of coppers (in unknown currency), a few baubles, and a few pieces of general gear. Even the boss'' slightly better gear and slightly more money weren''t able to cover the calculated debt.


    Luckily, the calculation was bogus, to begin with.


    The only real damage done was the shattered mugs, and the cost for them was covered by the liberated gear. The loss of income was an outright lie, Prof doubted, the stall had even enough beer and booze for all the Greenskins currently headbanging to mythrill. The so-called incurred costs were not even worth calling a lie – after all, the workers would be paid so or so, and neither Prof nor his two party members were paid anything. In the end effect, Prof made a profit of almost two Schillinge from shaking down the people who tried to shake him down.


    It was strange, nonetheless. His [Con] was so low, he probably couldn’t even swindle candy from a toddler. Either the thugs were extremely stupid, or literally having them by the balls helped immensely.


    “You know what, gentlemen, I’m feeling magnanimous. I will waive the rest of your debt, you may go. If we see you again, we will collect the rest of the money you still owe us.”


    “But we have only our underpants left!”


    “That is indeed a serious problem you have. You should hope, the authorities won’t arrest you for public disturbance. Skulk away now.”


    “You can’t do that to us!”


    “As I see, you have two choices right now. Skulk away, or discuss the issue with my friend, the starved Vampire.”


    “We will go now, but this is far from over!”


    That was funny. What were they trying to do? Wave certain appendages around? That would scare only Bianca off. Probably.


    In the background, a new song started.