The whole process repeated itself, only with applause this time, as people had come to look at what the Count, who stood out quite a bit, being so brightly clad and huge, had been doing. Even Dorgal grudgingly applauded.

The dark haired bully couldn't resist getting a barb in though. Of course. Making fun of Tor in front of a large group of people would probably make it even better for someone like him. As he started to speak, Tor made himself relax and just listen calmly, as if he cared what the idiot had to say. He even managed an interested and polite expression. Fake, but if the bastard wanted real politeness he'd have to start with some of his own for a while.

“So, your future career as a washer woman's all set Tor! Now all we have to do is get you a gray skirt and a bandanna for your pretty hair.” The tone was biting and surly, even if the words themselves could have been construed as just being playful if they came from someone else. It was the kind of thing Dorg excelled at. A kind of genius really, being a jerk without ever really being too overtly offensive. Not where other ears than Tor's could hear at least. He didn't get the laugh expected from the gathering crowd for some reason. In fact, a few of the people walking over to examine the now dried clothes stared at him as if he'd just cussed in public. One, a pretty girl with deep brown, almost black, curly hair in ringlets kind of glared at Dorgal.

“Seriously? And you from a manufacturing family? You can't see how big a field like this could be? Are you stupid or something?” The girl, who looked about seventeen or eighteen turned to Tor and smiled winningly.