Knights of Tezoth

"Look at you grumbling, you louts," my lord assessed disapprovingly, but without irritation.
Without slowing his pace, grasping the situation in a couple of moments, he sharply turns 180 degrees — but with enough dexterity that his squire neither crashes into him nor loses balance — and snaps his fingers with a ring:
— Not a speck of dust!.. Right! Dash for the package while it's still open there, I almost forgot about it. Go on, hop to it — while still in that same whispery, private manner, unheard by any extra ear, he conveys the next information to him in a second. — Under the arch around the corner is an inconspicuous spot, from which the entrance is visible. If I don't return within a reasonable time, let our people know, then fall back to the estate. Quietly, confidently, and without risk, as I taught you.

Giving the lad a boost with a pat on the shoulder, he finishes his path to the bar counter, drawing level with the characters.
— The crowd here can be quite motley, yet still, you rarely hear such words from the get-go, — grinning, Vargas nods to the bartender. — A cold one, — he returns his gaze to the avatars.
Giving a brief, approving nod to the stylish peasant bows, he habitually leans on the counter:
— Generally, on my schedule, I'm supposed to down a glass of Borjomi in the middle of such a busy day and then dash off, — a light and carefree smile, like a spring breeze, drifts toward the third. — But the metaphor sounds intriguing. Whom do I have the honor of addressing?