Rygel Thrax has spent the entirety of the speech engaged in an admirable display of distraction.  He has checked his reflection in a gleaming piece of silverware while adjusting his hair, flirted with the first serving girl, as well as the second and third after the prior had to excuse herself due to uncontrollable blushing, and had a sudden moment of arcane insight which would brook no delay in its recording - the hastily-scrawled napkin now decorates the breast pocket of his coat as a strangely heiroglyphed boutonniere.  He is by the end of the speech sitting with a dozen wine-glasses arrayed before him, with different levels in each - he plays a small but eerie symphony on them.<br/><br/>Those present know him, however, and have no cause for surprise when he turns out to have been paying more than sufficient attention to Mister Espin.  He stands up to pace a bit behind his chair, open-fronted coat revealing the rippling muscles of his chest.  "I assume that when you say 'large' vermin, my good sir, you mean to indicate rats, spiders, and similar lower forms elevated to at least the size of a common hunting dog, yes?  Those are damnably inconvenient, my friends.  You have to wipe them all out, you know, and there always turns out to be more hiding somewhere."  He sighs in exasperation.<br/><br/>"Lord Maestri has demonstrated his considerable intellect once more.  The giant and its ignorant minions are a nuisance.  They become a danger if unchecked, and a resource if we care to go to the trouble.  They probably aren't competent to really wipe out these vermin, but if we can persuade them to head into the north and start devouring them...well, we'll have ringside seats to see what happens to<em>them.</em>"  He pauses for a moment.  "Oh, do we know what kind of giant?  There's a world of difference between the common hill giant,<em>megahomo idioticus</em>, and a royal-blooded Storm Giant."<br/><br/>Rygel throws back the middle glass of wine in his row, then glares at the arrangement as though it had conspired to ruin his melody.  Abandoning his musical purpose, he taps one finger against his jaw.  "My lady, if you will permit me to explore what is likely already so obvious to you...if we were to offer our protection to the monastics in return for the secret of their agricultural success, think you that they would find that offer more attractive after they had been harried by a rampaging giant?"<br/><br/>