Bael Flinthammer wouldn’t stop crying. Ringo looked at the child’s mother imploringly.
“Fine!” Beli said, throwing up her hands, “Let’s go back to the inn and put him down for a nap. It’s quieter in there.”
A female draenei stepped between the dwarves and their destination.
“We’ve taken Sun’s Reach from the enemy and our final victory is at hand,” she began, turning to jog after the couple and the crying baby, who had not broken step when she started speaking. “The cost was high and many brave combatants gave their lives so we could achieve this.
“It is my goal to ensure that those who perished in combat are not forgotten. I ask that you take a moment to consider making a donation …”
“Gave already,” Ringo said, wincing as a child sorely in need of a nap howled in his ear. “To yer assistant, or something.”
“Gave at the office,” Beli said a moment later, as they stepped into the cool and quiet of the inn overlooking the harbor. The few Shattered Sun Offensive soldiers inside winced at the echoing cries, which died away after Beli quickly unfolded a blanket atop a table and placed the baby down on it.
A hand dropped onto Ringo’s shoulder.
“Knight-Captain Flinthammer, I was hoping you might make a … substantial donation to Anchorite Ayuri’s memorial fund,” the large draenei rumbled. Ringo brushed the hand off his shoulder.
“Oh, aye?” Ringo said, raising his eyebrows at the Aldor priest he recognized as Anchorite Kairthos. “There’d be a damn sight more names on her memorial if I hadn’t been donating me blood, sweat and tears, both here and in Outland. I’ve mined nether residue until my fingers bled, I’ve flown on countless bombing missions, I’ve slain endless numbers of demons …”
“Ye would have done that for free,” Beli put in.
“… been soaked with the blood of Kael’Thas’ elves …”
“That too,” Beli chimed in again.
“Stop helping,” Ringo snapped at his wife. “So now, after all of this, now you want more from me?”
Kairthos produced a lock box with a slot in its lid. He shook it meaningfully, and its contents clinked.
“Ayuri is not as worldly as you and me,” the priest intoned. “She has a big heart and is very convincing, but the donations do not quite add up to what she had expected. If you were to make a large contribution to her cause, I will make sure that word of your deeds in this war spreads far and wide. What do you say?”
“Back on Draenor, before Kael’Thas and Illidan and all that, ye were the one passing the collection plate in church, weren’t ye?”
Kairthos inclined his head and said nothing. After a moment, he jingled the lock box again.
“See, this is why we don’t follow the Light!” Ringo snarled, digging out his money pouch. “Oh, it’s all ‘one with the universe,’ from the pulpit, but the truth is, ye want to be one with my wallet!”
Ringo dropped several gold coins down into the lock box.
Kairthos jingled the box once more.
“Khaz’goroth on a cracker!” Ringo snatched a piece of paper and a quill from off a nearby table and scribbled a note on the paper. He shoved it in front of the priest a moment before folding it up and stuffing it in the box. “There! That’s all you’re getting from us, ya bloody squid!”
“You truly are a generous person and a worthy ally,” Kairthos said mildly. “I will present your note to the Vault of Ironforge and get your donation from there. From now on you shall be known as ‘Ringo of the Shattered Sun’ and all who fought here will know of your deeds!”
The priest moved off, heading toward another soldier, whose alarmed expression echoed Ringo’s a moment before.
“And they say that dwarves are able to sniff out gold …”