Retief pushes his chair back with a scrape against the floor and stands to his full height. The soft light in the room gleams off his gorget as his face is cold and dispassionate. He takes a step out from in front of his chair and walks around the table, never looking away from Goodman Willems.
"So let me get this straight, in case me or my brothers and sister might be misunderstanding in any fashion. You wish for us to shame ourselves and become simple caravan guards. You wish for us to pretend that this war never happened, to ignore what we endured." He continues to walk around the table, moving slowly closer to the portly man. "Just so I'm clear, you wish for us to forsake our pride, give up on ever getting back what is owed to our people."
He stops right in front of the spy, so that he is standing right above him, looking down. "You wish us to negate all the deeds we did for our countrymen and our Queen, just to follow a few of your precious goods across some mundane land?" He leans down so that his face is right above Willems'. "And you wish for us to win back Thaliost and kill some Thranish swine while we're at it?" His voice picks up in pitch at the end, so that some levity could be heard. Retief reaches down with his hands and grabs the man's chubby cheeks, planting a heavy kiss on the spy's forehead. He plops down in the Lord's vacated seat and sets to pour a glass of wine for himself and the spymaster.
Once finished, he hands the glass to Willem and smiles, "A toast: To Aundair and her Queen and the fall of Thrane!" He lifts his glass high and brings it down, quaffing it in one drink.