Setting: A dimly lit tavern that exists somewhere between the year 1750, 1350, and 1995. The walls are stone, but there is a CRT monitor flickering on the table.

Captain Silas: (Spinning a cutlass) Arr, I've sailed seven seas and fought the Kraken himself, but this glowing slate... it speaks without a mouth. It answers my questions like a parrot, but it don't know no songs.

Sir Kaelen: (Clanking armor) 'Tis a strange spirit, Captain. A squire without a blade. I asked it for the lineage of the House of York, and it spoke with confidence. But I fear it knows the history books, yet it knows not the honor of the battlefield.

Rico: (Typing furiously on a laptop with a sticker of a pixelated skull) Yo, guys, chill out. It ain't a spirit, it's a Large Language Model. It's just a massive script trained on terabytes of text data. It's predicting the next word based on probability.

Captain Silas: Probability? Is that a new coin? Aye, if it be coin, it's soft currency. I've seen more gold in the hold of the Gilded Galleon than in its "training data."

Sir Kaelen: A squire who predicts words? That is dangerous. What if it predicts a lie? In my time, a false word is a betrayal of the Crown. If it hallucinates... does it bleed?

Rico: Nah, it just hallucinates facts. Like, it'll tell you Shakespeare wrote a poem about a cat, even if he didn't. It's a glitch in the matrix, man. Like when I tried to dial into the BBS at 2400 baud and got static.

Captain Silas: Static... like fog at sea. I trust a compass, not a fog. This "AI," it's a black box, I say. I want to see the code, Rico. Show me the map to the treasure.

Rico: I can't just show you the code, Captain. It's proprietary. You gotta pay for the API access.

Captain Silas: Pay? Aye, I'll pay in gold doubloons. I'll sink the ship that says no.

Sir Kaelen: And I shall protect it from those who would weaponize the squire. If it speaks truth, it is a noble tool. If it speaks falsehood... it is a demon to be exorcised.

Rico: (Laughs) Man, you guys are too dramatic. It's just an algorithm. Look, I can get it to write a rap about your armor.

Captain Silas: (Grins) A rap? I like the sound of that. But make sure the rhyme scheme don't get scurvy.

Sir Kaelen: And ensure the verse holds the weight of truth.

Rico: (Typing) Alright, alright. Hold on. "Yo, the armor is shiny, but the internet's slow, and the AI is the boss, but the hacker is the go..."

Captain Silas: (Chuckles) 'Tis a pirate's song. I'll take it.

Sir Kaelen: (Sighs) It lacks meter, but... 'tis a start.

Rico: Told you. Neural net magic. Now, who wants to buy me a soda?

Captain Silas: (Pulls out a bottle of rum) I got something stronger than soda, hacker.

Sir Kaelen: (Raises goblet) To the machine, then. May it serve us well.

Rico: (Raises a 2-liter of Mountain Dew) To the code. Peace out.