More Mortimer

After he had set his affairs in order and bid the Queen goodbye, Mortimer set about enacting his plan. He knew the first thing to do was go straight to the source - the mysterious man who had given him the avacado so many years ago. It had been almost 11 years ago that he had obtained the vegetable, knowing nothing of it's value except that he was to throw it in a time of great peril, but that he should beware the terrible price. Now he was hoping to obtain a little more info. He hopped on his flying gazelle Narrin and set off due East.
He'd recieved the avacado in the city of Merk Heeliott, a shady overgrown port town many miles from the royal seat at Higgansnorg. It was two days by cart, four days by Lizard-cart, and 4 hours by zeppelin, but Narrin hadn't won Ungulus magazine's "Fastest Steed" Award for nothing. She had him at the main gate in an hour, although the flight wasn't the most comfortable. He wiped the especially high-flying bugs from his mouth guard as Narrin trotted up to the main gate.
"Who goes there?" asked the guard, a large creature, likely not human judging by his height and the gruffness of his voice.
"A servant of her majesty."
"Her majesty's servants get no special treatment here. Business or pleasure?"
"Business."
"27 gruck."
27 gruck was a ridiculous toll. Obviously the gatekeeper thought that because he had a fancy steed and outfit, he could charge a little more and pocket the extra. Mortimer was inside the guard tower with the hulking creature pinned to the wall in 7 seconds.
"I don't actually need to even go through the gate," he seethed, "My steed can fly. But because I'm a better man than you, I've got no problem paying the real toll, if you tell me now what it is."
"7 gruck," the guard muttered.
Mortimer hopped back on Narrinand rode through the gate, which he's gone ahead and opened himself from inside the tower, tossing the guard two coins as he went by.

Inside the city, Mortimer wasted no time making his way to one of the many taverns. This one had a picture of a black duck with a blue beak and yellow eyes. The name of the pub was "The Inverted Duck" but few of the patrons realized the colors were inverted or even knew what that meant. It was called the Black Duck or the Weird Duck around town. The owner had considered hanging the sign upside down to get the point across, but he knew the patrons wouldn't get that either. There were few enough intellectuals in Merk Heeliott.
Unfortunately for the intellectually starved pub-owner, Mortimer was not here to talk to him. He ordered a beer, more because it was what you did here then because he wanted one, and then walked straight to a table in the back. Sure enough, he was still there. A slightly creepy man in his late sixties, with a pointy beard, a large bald spot, and purple hair all around.
"I'm relieved to see you," said Mortimer, "I was really not expecting to find youi right where I left you 11 years ago."
The man did not look up at Mortimer, but stared straight forward.
"I told you about the price when I gave you the avacado. What more have we to discuss?"
"What's he going to do?"
THe man was silent. Mortimer pulled a kitchen knife from his belt, and opened his peanut-butter pouch. He dipped the knife in the peanut butter and put it to the man's forehead.
"You know what'll happen if I smear this on you," he said, "I don't want it any more than you do."
"You can't get rid of me with rodents. I'm not even here at all. But if you want to know about Franklin Pierce, go to the history books. That's where you'll find him."
And with that, the man was suddenly not there. THis would be harder then he'd hoped.
"Look!" came a voice from the next table, "He's got peanut butter!"
And suddenly the bar patrons were on him. He'd forgotten the value of peanut butter in these parts. Oh well, it had been a while since he'd been in a real brawl. He picked up a chair and got started.