Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Who is it? Which bastard is pounding on my front door? Don't you know it's dinner time?"
Setting down his plate, Rambo jumped off the table, looking thoroughly Unhappy. He opened the door and found three big guys with bad intentions waiting outside. The golden-haired one in particular was just like his son—always showing up to mooch food and drinks.
"Rambo! You're finally better! On my trip, I even ran into your ancestor!"
Rambo was always glad to see his Dog-man Emperor and his chancellor. He went right up and hugged Hogg, then accepted the iced-sugar pork knuckle Magnus handed him.
Looking at the pork knuckle, which was a whole size smaller than the ones sold outside, Rambo twitched his dog ears and asked in confusion:
"Your Majesty, why is this pork knuckle only half a shank? And look here—this doesn't look like it was cut with a knife. Even if the vendor bought a blade shaped like the teeth of some giant predator, where did all the meat on this pork knuckle go?"
"Ah, well!" Hogg laughed awkwardly, caught out by the key question. He figured it was all Magnus's fault for saying that one pork knuckle hadn't been enough to taste, so they should split this one between them and ask the owner to coat another in syrup. With that in mind, Hogg could only keep bluffing. "Rambo, you've only just recovered from a serious illness. Greasy food isn't good for you, so don't sweat the details. It's the thought that counts. You don't need to bring me gifts when you visit in the future. Oh! I think I can smell food. What a feast you've got for dinner!"
Ignoring Rambo's miserable expression, Hogg hoisted the big dog up and hurried to the dining table.