"For all we know, sir, Governor Burnie is either totally absent, controlled himself, or dead, mmph mmph. Do remember that I was imprisoned by fairies for a year before I managed my release."
He chuckles.
"It horribly frightened their king when he found out the god he was worshipping, mmph mmph, was the true figure of the 'bigling' he'd imprisoned for so long and impersonated, hee hee! But enough on that."
Tready's fingers drum on that flabby middle.
"So my advice, with all that said, is that we move as if we don't know that the Governor is coming back. He might not be, or he might not be soon, mmph mmph. I know of a few in town who hold no love for the situation, hmm hmm, and all of my much beloved followers, few though they are, are reasonably safe, as long as they hold to the faith. We can start there, if we must. I can't, though, just magically wiggle my fat fingers and extend protection to all of the Wood. It just doesn't work that way, mmph mmph."
Fat throat clears heavily, and out flaps a handkerchief to wipe at growing sweat on his face.
"This room, hmm hmm, it gets terribly hot in summer. The sun, you see, keeps it all rather toasty, and, well, being fat, old, and lazy, I don't appreciate getting too warm, hee hee. But I'm not opening that window 'til we're finished."
He reaches out his empty mug to Duquesne.
"Fat, old, and lazy, indeed. Might you fetch me a little more tea from the cabinet, if you don't mind, hmm hmm?"