“At the hospital Johann and Ragnar was consulting Dr Jurgen Hofmeister, a well known fan of the team, and also a fan of Johann's brandybottles.
"How does it look?" Johann asked.
"Wish I could be more cheerful," the ever so dull doctor said. "It seems Wolfgang and Piotr have exhausted their bodies when they have been, erh, working out."
"Yes, yes? " Johann urged him on.
"Seems their knees have been seriously weakened by this."
"Can they ever walk again?" Ragnar asked, the vivid image of knees snapping fresh in his memory.
"Walk - yes, run - with a limp, most likely. And probably not every day."
Johann paced up and down the doctors office.
"Well, we will just have to consult that trader again." Johann said cryptically.
"What trader?" Ragnar asked.
"Ah, my dear fellow," he said. "You know the one that provides room and shelter for a minor exchange of labour in the goldmines down south."
Ragnar swallowed hard. Was he really discussing selling the patients into slavery? And discussing it openly in front of the doctor? It wasn't well thought of in the higher circuits of Middenheim. And even hearing a discussion about selling into slavery was a punishable offence.
"Well," doctor Hofmeister said. "I know a prominent man with a high position at one of those institutions. Let's get some brandy, and I'll introduce you to Ibn al Achmed later this evening."

Ragnar sighed. Luckily this doctor wasn't part of the higher circuits...”