The marshal drew the tarpaulin flap and shoved Pita into the Command Tent.

“You play a good game, boy, but your campaign is over.” Inspector Gynous remained behind his field table without offering his hand. “Your scandalous tales of bile, violence, and vulgarity nearly derailed my project. By right, I could have you flung from atop Stone Mountain.”

Pita prepared his protest.

“However,” Gynous interrupted, “you have your choice of appointment.”

Pita struck the center of the parchment with an oily thumb. “Paris’ll do.”
This is too easy. Pitas turned his back to Gynous to exit. He loved the Inspector.