"Hmm very well," Iabor said.
He adjusted his gauntlets a bit, before throwing the other strap on his back pack over his other shoulder. Then pulled out a heavilly filled water skin from his jacket pocket, which wasn't filled with water but honeyed meed. He took a chug from his honeyed meed it tasted amazing. He soon took it away corking the top as he glared at Allistair, he was mentally imbalanced. Everything that meant anything to him had just been taken away in one fell swoop. He'd thought that the worst that the man would do was put him under contract, but this.... This was a punishment worse then death to Iabor. He had no purpose now, but he was going to complete this last mission with efficiency worthy of him.