The Bravo sat in the tavern, contemplating his next move. He decided retirement was his best option.

Then she walked in. Taller than him, obviously fitter than him, clearly out of his league. He smiled to himself, in his younger days he would have seen her as a challenge.

She stopped at his table. Sat down without an invitation.

"We're going on a journey." She said.

"Not interested. Thanks." The Bravo said and made to stand up.

"Wait. you've done the standards. You've saved some countries from themselves, by killing off their warlords. You've done the crown prince thing. You've done the protecting the princess thing. The next thing is take an orphan across the country. That's what I'm proposing," she said.

He waited.

"Long story short. The orphan is important to several factions. It would take too long to explain. Just trust me. So, you will be transporting an orphan, but not THE orphan. You will set out before us. Me and the real orphan will take another route. The factions will follow you and leave us the hell alone."

"How do you know about me? And why would I take on a suicide mission like this?"

"You'd going to do it for this."

From the scabbard strapped to her back she drew a long, beat up sword. She dropped it on the table. It made no noise.

"I have many swords. I don't really need another."

"This one is different. Pick it up."

He did. The hilt was wrapped in some kind of squishy, yet grippy material. The balance of the sword felt good. He stood and swished around experimentally a couple of times. It made no sound at all.

"A stealth sword? Great for assassins, but that's not my game."

"Oh, but I'm so much more than that." An androgynous voice whispered in his head. "I'm also a guide, mentor and wish grantor."

"That's nice."

He considered for a minute. A stealth sword with, presumably, magical capabilities would be quite the addition to the arsenal. He weighed his options. He dropped the sword. He ran out of the tavern.

He didn't stop running until he was barricaded in his cabin in the woods.

Much later, he learned that both parties transporting orphans had been decimated. Orphans and all.

Which just goes to prove: You shouldn't trust muscular women proffering magical swords, whether said swords had been pulled out of lakes or not.

Pratchett said it. I believe it. That settles it!

(For bonus points: spot the irony.)

The basic premise that he is thinking of it as a business is flawed. He continues to demonstrate that every project he has undertaken is an ego project. He just wants to be in the news. If Twitter folds because of his mismanagement he'll find a conspiracy to blame.