Magic is not equal.
It is a discipline that is heavily dependent on natural talent and that talent is not distributed equally. There are nine affinities, four basic and five greater. There is a good reason for that distinction. Manipulating the elements is impressive and useful, but, at the end of the day, limited.
The guildmaster Kierra slew was a master fire caster. The epitome of his affinity. Defending himself from my wife’s assault was incredible but beyond that…he threw fire. Powerful fire but fire all the same. The same as an initiate throwing a basic flame arrow.
The same applies to the other elements. There are those who find innovative ways to use their affinities. Notably, the famous rain callers of Rosentheim who viciously guard the spells that keep the city overflowing with greenery. There are builders who shape earth to help erect buildings, inspiring stories of casters who can erect whole cities with a wave of their hand. Informants who use the wind affinity to be everywhere, all the time. Yet that pales in comparison to what the greater affinities can do.
Geneva is a prime example. I’ve seen her demonstrate spells using both basic and greater affinities. She taught me a spell using fire and wind that can rival the power of a master without their years of experience. That is power any noble house or faction would covet.
That is nothing when examined beside her night of fun with Arthur. In the course of a few hours, she made him live a false life of ten years. She taught him and traumatized him. Changed him irrevocably and the impact he will have on the world. Compared to that, throwing around a little fire seems inconsequential.
Affinities are not the only way a caster’s talent is measured. There is also the mana core. Some are born with weak cores that take exceedingly long to grow. They can work all their lives and never reach a coefficient greater than two hundred.
There are also those born with powerful cores that grow several times faster than average. They can practice haphazardly and still have a coefficient of five hundred before their fifth decade. And just as it is unheard of for people to change their affinities, it is similarly “impossible” for someone to change the quality of their core.
My wife does not have many things I would call a flaw or a weakness. I’ve discovered another. Truly, it isn’t much of a weakness as it is a point of…normality. In this regard she is perfectly average. I’m simply unaccustomed to associating her with the word average.
It took her a small but noticeable amount of mana to inflict a horrible death on her first opponent. She’s not so adept at reading her expenditures to give percentages like the succubi. The best she can say is “barely an effort”. Despite that, it still takes her about two hours to recover the mana.
It reminds me that my wife is not invulnerable. She may be a terror with her magic but her mana can be exhausted and without it…well, she may not be weak but she would be a manageable threat. Weak enough to be threatened by a single troll, as her past shows.
When Geneva tells me she’s ready, I snap my opponent’s neck. No fuss, no mess. Just a little force on the man’s fragile bones and he falls face-first into the snow without so much as a whimper. I don’t even look at the poor bastard, instead choosing to stare at the hunters as I do the deed.
There is no yelling. The time for angry outbursts has passed. Now the hunters need to make a decision. The air is heavy around the many tense bodies and bowed heads. Emberton stands before the first row of seats, looking between them with a grim frown and anxious eyes.
“Choose your next champion,” the duke demands, his words echoing across the empty field.
A hunter rises from his seat and makes for the exit. Emberton tries to grab his shoulder as he passes the pudgy representative but the limb is shaken off and the man keeps walking. “It’s not worth it!” I hear him shout before he breaks into a run. No one else tries to stop him. Other hunters are also rising, preparing to leave. The scene is wiped away in a sudden, blinding light accompanied by a powerful clap of sound.
I recognize Kalise’s spell and remain still. Once I blink the dark spots out of my eyes, I drop a “film”. The hunter that was about to make his escape is lying beyond the exit, the back of his cloak scorched. Odds are he’s dead.
The others that meant to follow him are still, frozen by fear or caution. There are a stream of curses and whispered questions as they try to understand the unexpected turn of events.
“You outsiders have been given lenience as a little ignorance can be forgiven,” the duke of Victory says, drawing their attention. “But your situation was made clear. One side wins, the other dies. Victory or death. Choose your champion.”
I gape at the duke with a dropped jaw. They can’t surrender? What in the Abyss was the point of our strategy?! Geneva!
[It seems there’s been a misunderstanding. Do you want me to delve deeper?]
No, dammit! But you should have said something about this misunderstanding earlier.
[What was there to say? You are letting Alana take the lead in all matters regarding Victory and you disapprove of me interfering with your relationships.]
You better have a better excuse than that.
She giggles. I know it is designed to assuage my anger but it’s still effective. Why does she have to be so cute? Maybe I should tell her to be less attractive…no. [Do you not trust Alana has a strategy? Or are you finally disgusted with the James and their absurd traditions?]
Saints cursed scheming…if we were anywhere else, on behalf on anyone else, this might have swayed me into doing something reckless. Even if that is only walking away from this whole mess. But I can’t walk away. This is Alana’s home. Her family. Her dream. I promised her.
[How passive you are, my summoner. Are you so frightened of rejection? So frightened that you would leave your lover to stress about the particulars alone? Perhaps she didn’t discuss the March in detail because she thought you couldn’t handle it.]
That’s ridiculous! And I told you not to tell me her thoughts.
[I’m not telling you her thoughts. Merely speaking on a hypothetical. She may not be alone, physically, but you heaped all of the responsibility of dealing with the her family, the source of all her traumas, onto her shoulders. Did you think you were doing her a favor? No one is infallible. Not me and certainly not your love and inexperienced lover. Has it not been shown that her judgment has been compromised when it comes to her family?]
Quiet. I can’t tell if you’re being helpful or playing another game and this is not the time for this.
I walk toward Kierra and the others. My eyes move to Alana. She wears the same grim frown as her brother who stands behind her. Grim, but not surprised. Not bothered. So, why am I?
The hunters started this. They challenged me. They want to kill me and will do so without a moment’s hesitation if given the opportunity. When Kalise mentioned the March, they could have walked away. Gotten more information. Instead, they pounced on what they thought was easy prey. I don’t normally spare a thought for people who wish me ill.
Maybe…maybe because I know they have no chance, because I know they cannot kill me or Kierra, it doesn’t affect me the way it normally would. Maybe it’s because I watched a man tear his own throat out and know that anyone else my wife gets her hands on will suffer a similar, if not worse, fate.
They’re…pathetic. Heart strainingly, tear inducingly, pathetic. Especially the poor hunter currently making his way to the middle of the Witness Circle, an unwillingly sacrifice pushed forward by his cold comrades. Ignored by them as they continue to argue about their looming deaths.
It irks me.
[Perhaps—]
Don’t. I can chew over this another time. The last thing I need is to feel more pity for these bastards.
“Enough.”
“Enough!”
Across the field, one of the hunters is making a fuss. Dropping a “film”, I make out his finer clothes. There isn’t much room for style in this weather but the fine scarlet fur wrapped around his shoulders makes a statement. He screams money and for a hunter, that means he’s strong.
“No, I’ve had enough. I came to earn some gold and pay off a debt but no favor is worth my life!”
“I agree.” A woman, at least I guess as much from the sound of her voice as she’s covered in gray armor from head to toe, stands. “I was asked to watch this farce with the understanding that I wouldn’t fight. Now, we’re being forced to either fight these madwomen or face the wrath of the duke? Ridiculous.”
A man in a fur-lined cloak over a dark blue robe is the next to stand. “The same for me. Emberton. What have you gotten us into?”
The pudgy representative of the hunters flinches under the harsh tone. “What’s the problem? It’s a couple women. Put them down and it’s all over.”
“A couple of women?” the woman in the full plate scoffs. “Leaving your opinion of the opposite sex aside, the noblewoman dragged out her fight when she could have ended it at any time.”
“To let the elf recover her mana,” the man in blue added.
“No, a demonstration. Was the threat not clear? There are physical spells that can nourish others. Incredibly costly spells that aren’t worth the time for most masters. A spell we don’t have but I assume the elf with the pure affinity does. If we are not allowed to leave, they can starve us out. Our numbers become useless then.
She turns to Emberton, who flinches again. “I hope you don’t believe we can fight off a master physical caster with unknown abilities after multiple days without food or proper rest.”
“I…well, what other choice is there?!” Emberton shouts. “If we don’t win, the whole of the north will march on Quest. Do you think the guilds are going to give up everything they own? No, they won’t! Right now, we are the only ones who can stop the first war in the history of the kingdom!”
“Why does it have to be us?!” the hunter with the scarlet fur shouts. “You’re the one who made this mess by hopping in bed with the James boy. I’m not dying for this!”
The representative sneers. “I think the duke has made it clear you don’t have much of a choice.”
“My lord.” To my surprise, Eleanor suddenly speaks up. “I think it is time for an intervention.”
“Stay out of this, ice woman,” Kalise snarls. “If your boy can’t wipe his own ass by now, best to let nature set him right.”
“My son will speak on his own behalf,” the duke says, ending the argument before it can begin. “If he dares.”
The implication is obvious. Zach can dig himself a deeper hole if he isn’t careful. A fact he knows as well from his hesitant expression. But it only lasts for a moment. Then his features relax and he steps forward. “By my name, Zachariah Erenhart James, I request an intervention,” he yells.
“You have no right,” Kalise growls.
“My lord has given his permission,” Eleanor snaps. “And my son, your future lord, speaks.”
“Hah! Not the way he’s going.”
Zach’s hands ball at his sides. “I want to make a proposition to the Tome clan.”
“If it isn’t to surrender, you can shut up,” Alana says at the same time Kierra says, “Speak.”
My future saint looks at the elf with disbelief. I imagine my expression is the same. She grins viciously. “Speak your proposition, foolish cub.”
“Kii!”
“No.” Her eyes narrow as she turns toward me. “I want this.”
What?! This is not the time. “No.”
She moves toward me. After remaking myself, she doesn’t tower over me, but she still has the height advantage. Something I usually like but is incredibly annoying now. “I believe it is time for another challenge.”
Wait…she can’t mean…oh, not now, for the love of the saints!
“Speak quickly, boy,” my wife says, looking over her shoulder.
Zach seizes the opportunity. “All your enemies will fight you at once. Are you confident?”
“NO!” I shout alongside Alana.
“Yes,” Kierra replies, “but if the stakes have been raised, so must the reward. What will you offer?”
His thick brows are furrowed as he thinks. I grab my wife by the collar, drawing her attention back to me, ready to…I don’t know. Saints, why does she insist on making this more difficult than it needs to be?
Before I can find the words, she grabs me about the waist and pulls me close, lowering her head to whisper in my ear. “Have I not been good, dedia? I think I’ve been very good.”
“You’ve been great but that has nothing to do with—”
She pulls me tighter against her and lowers her voice to a volume only someone with our ridiculous hearing could pick up. “Good mates deserve rewards lest they think it better to be bad.”
“You…alright. Fine. A reward. No problem. Anything you want, after we finish—”
“I want this,” she hisses.
“Saints blessed asses, Kii—”
“Why are you so against this, my conqueror? Do you still not realize your power? Why deny me?”
“It’s not about that.” Is it? “I…this is Alana’s—”
Her hand grabs my chin, stopping my next words. “Are you not the head of this family? Perhaps you want to be a flower as well.”
I glare at her. Just because I don’t like taking risks and senseless slaughter does not make me soft. I won’t be goaded into thinking this is some kind of game!
I shake off her grip and push her away. “This is not the time.”
“I say it is.”
I close m eyes in exasperation. “I don’t suppose we can settle this with calm words and rationale.”
She growls. It’s not her sexy, beast in bed growl but her best impression of a hungry predator one second from extreme violence.
I had to marry the savage. Couldn’t find myself someone like her sister who spends her days dancing with butterflies or one of the Twilight elves who would have been content as long as they had free access to my body. Had to choose the former warrior with a troll fetish and a problematic battle lust.
“You’re about to have what promises to be the biggest fight of your life in less than a month,” I grumble.
“I want it now.”
“You—”
“I’ve come to a decision—”
“Shut up!” I shout at the stupid heir that is the root of my current problems. Am I going to have to fight her? To stop her from fighting the hunters? Just so I can kill them all anyway? No, it’s the principle of the thing. “This is all your fault so stay out of it!”
I turn away from the shocked heir. “No. We’re not doing this today. I am the head of this family and I’m telling you to put the claws away and calm down.”
To spite me, her nails blacken and lengthen to actual claws. “Make me.”
“Hey! You two—”
“I said shut it!” I roar at Zachariah.
“Lou.”
I turn to Alana. “One moment.”
“Lou.”
Hearing the change in her tone, I turn to her. Her eyes plead with me to calm down and I just manage. She flashes me the tiniest of smiles before erasing it and turning toward her brother. “There’s only one proposition we will accept.”
“Half!” His outrage lasts for only a moment. “…if my interests are on the line, they should be defended by one of my own. One of my bannermen will join the side of the hunters. And I request a period of time to address the hunters. Half an hour.”
My future saint smiles prettily. “A quarter of an hour and you have a deal.”
Magic is not equal.
It is a discipline that is heavily dependent on natural talent and that talent is not distributed equally. There are nine affinities, four basic and five greater. There is a good reason for that distinction. Manipulating the elements is impressive and useful, but, at the end of the day, limited.
The guildmaster Kierra slew was a master fire caster. The epitome of his affinity. Defending himself from my wife’s assault was incredible but beyond that…he threw fire. Powerful fire but fire all the same. The same as an initiate throwing a basic flame arrow.
The same applies to the other elements. There are those who find innovative ways to use their affinities. Notably, the famous rain callers of Rosentheim who viciously guard the spells that keep the city overflowing with greenery. There are builders who shape earth to help erect buildings, inspiring stories of casters who can erect whole cities with a wave of their hand. Informants who use the wind affinity to be everywhere, all the time. Yet that pales in comparison to what the greater affinities can do.
Geneva is a prime example. I’ve seen her demonstrate spells using both basic and greater affinities. She taught me a spell using fire and wind that can rival the power of a master without their years of experience. That is power any noble house or faction would covet.
That is nothing when examined beside her night of fun with Arthur. In the course of a few hours, she made him live a false life of ten years. She taught him and traumatized him. Changed him irrevocably and the impact he will have on the world. Compared to that, throwing around a little fire seems inconsequential.
Affinities are not the only way a caster’s talent is measured. There is also the mana core. Some are born with weak cores that take exceedingly long to grow. They can work all their lives and never reach a coefficient greater than two hundred.
There are also those born with powerful cores that grow several times faster than average. They can practice haphazardly and still have a coefficient of five hundred before their fifth decade. And just as it is unheard of for people to change their affinities, it is similarly “impossible” for someone to change the quality of their core.
My wife does not have many things I would call a flaw or a weakness. I’ve discovered another. Truly, it isn’t much of a weakness as it is a point of…normality. In this regard she is perfectly average. I’m simply unaccustomed to associating her with the word average.
It took her a small but noticeable amount of mana to inflict a horrible death on her first opponent. She’s not so adept at reading her expenditures to give percentages like the succubi. The best she can say is “barely an effort”. Despite that, it still takes her about two hours to recover the mana.
It reminds me that my wife is not invulnerable. She may be a terror with her magic but her mana can be exhausted and without it…well, she may not be weak but she would be a manageable threat. Weak enough to be threatened by a single troll, as her past shows.
When Geneva tells me she’s ready, I snap my opponent’s neck. No fuss, no mess. Just a little force on the man’s fragile bones and he falls face-first into the snow without so much as a whimper. I don’t even look at the poor bastard, instead choosing to stare at the hunters as I do the deed.
There is no yelling. The time for angry outbursts has passed. Now the hunters need to make a decision. The air is heavy around the many tense bodies and bowed heads. Emberton stands before the first row of seats, looking between them with a grim frown and anxious eyes.
“Choose your next champion,” the duke demands, his words echoing across the empty field.
A hunter rises from his seat and makes for the exit. Emberton tries to grab his shoulder as he passes the pudgy representative but the limb is shaken off and the man keeps walking. “It’s not worth it!” I hear him shout before he breaks into a run. No one else tries to stop him. Other hunters are also rising, preparing to leave. The scene is wiped away in a sudden, blinding light accompanied by a powerful clap of sound.
I recognize Kalise’s spell and remain still. Once I blink the dark spots out of my eyes, I drop a “film”. The hunter that was about to make his escape is lying beyond the exit, the back of his cloak scorched. Odds are he’s dead.
The others that meant to follow him are still, frozen by fear or caution. There are a stream of curses and whispered questions as they try to understand the unexpected turn of events.
“You outsiders have been given lenience as a little ignorance can be forgiven,” the duke of Victory says, drawing their attention. “But your situation was made clear. One side wins, the other dies. Victory or death. Choose your champion.”
I gape at the duke with a dropped jaw. They can’t surrender? What in the Abyss was the point of our strategy?! Geneva!
[It seems there’s been a misunderstanding. Do you want me to delve deeper?]
No, dammit! But you should have said something about this misunderstanding earlier.
[What was there to say? You are letting Alana take the lead in all matters regarding Victory and you disapprove of me interfering with your relationships.]
You better have a better excuse than that.
She giggles. I know it is designed to assuage my anger but it’s still effective. Why does she have to be so cute? Maybe I should tell her to be less attractive…no. [Do you not trust Alana has a strategy? Or are you finally disgusted with the James and their absurd traditions?]
Saints cursed scheming…if we were anywhere else, on behalf on anyone else, this might have swayed me into doing something reckless. Even if that is only walking away from this whole mess. But I can’t walk away. This is Alana’s home. Her family. Her dream. I promised her.
[How passive you are, my summoner. Are you so frightened of rejection? So frightened that you would leave your lover to stress about the particulars alone? Perhaps she didn’t discuss the March in detail because she thought you couldn’t handle it.]
That’s ridiculous! And I told you not to tell me her thoughts.
[I’m not telling you her thoughts. Merely speaking on a hypothetical. She may not be alone, physically, but you heaped all of the responsibility of dealing with the her family, the source of all her traumas, onto her shoulders. Did you think you were doing her a favor? No one is infallible. Not me and certainly not your love and inexperienced lover. Has it not been shown that her judgment has been compromised when it comes to her family?]
Quiet. I can’t tell if you’re being helpful or playing another game and this is not the time for this.
I walk toward Kierra and the others. My eyes move to Alana. She wears the same grim frown as her brother who stands behind her. Grim, but not surprised. Not bothered. So, why am I?
The hunters started this. They challenged me. They want to kill me and will do so without a moment’s hesitation if given the opportunity. When Kalise mentioned the March, they could have walked away. Gotten more information. Instead, they pounced on what they thought was easy prey. I don’t normally spare a thought for people who wish me ill.
Maybe…maybe because I know they have no chance, because I know they cannot kill me or Kierra, it doesn’t affect me the way it normally would. Maybe it’s because I watched a man tear his own throat out and know that anyone else my wife gets her hands on will suffer a similar, if not worse, fate.
They’re…pathetic. Heart strainingly, tear inducingly, pathetic. Especially the poor hunter currently making his way to the middle of the Witness Circle, an unwillingly sacrifice pushed forward by his cold comrades. Ignored by them as they continue to argue about their looming deaths.
It irks me.
[Perhaps—]
Don’t. I can chew over this another time. The last thing I need is to feel more pity for these bastards.
“Enough.”
“Enough!”
Across the field, one of the hunters is making a fuss. Dropping a “film”, I make out his finer clothes. There isn’t much room for style in this weather but the fine scarlet fur wrapped around his shoulders makes a statement. He screams money and for a hunter, that means he’s strong.
“No, I’ve had enough. I came to earn some gold and pay off a debt but no favor is worth my life!”
“I agree.” A woman, at least I guess as much from the sound of her voice as she’s covered in gray armor from head to toe, stands. “I was asked to watch this farce with the understanding that I wouldn’t fight. Now, we’re being forced to either fight these madwomen or face the wrath of the duke? Ridiculous.”
A man in a fur-lined cloak over a dark blue robe is the next to stand. “The same for me. Emberton. What have you gotten us into?”
The pudgy representative of the hunters flinches under the harsh tone. “What’s the problem? It’s a couple women. Put them down and it’s all over.”
“A couple of women?” the woman in the full plate scoffs. “Leaving your opinion of the opposite sex aside, the noblewoman dragged out her fight when she could have ended it at any time.”
“To let the elf recover her mana,” the man in blue added.
“No, a demonstration. Was the threat not clear? There are physical spells that can nourish others. Incredibly costly spells that aren’t worth the time for most masters. A spell we don’t have but I assume the elf with the pure affinity does. If we are not allowed to leave, they can starve us out. Our numbers become useless then.
She turns to Emberton, who flinches again. “I hope you don’t believe we can fight off a master physical caster with unknown abilities after multiple days without food or proper rest.”
“I…well, what other choice is there?!” Emberton shouts. “If we don’t win, the whole of the north will march on Quest. Do you think the guilds are going to give up everything they own? No, they won’t! Right now, we are the only ones who can stop the first war in the history of the kingdom!”
“Why does it have to be us?!” the hunter with the scarlet fur shouts. “You’re the one who made this mess by hopping in bed with the James boy. I’m not dying for this!”
The representative sneers. “I think the duke has made it clear you don’t have much of a choice.”
“My lord.” To my surprise, Eleanor suddenly speaks up. “I think it is time for an intervention.”
“Stay out of this, ice woman,” Kalise snarls. “If your boy can’t wipe his own ass by now, best to let nature set him right.”
“My son will speak on his own behalf,” the duke says, ending the argument before it can begin. “If he dares.”
The implication is obvious. Zach can dig himself a deeper hole if he isn’t careful. A fact he knows as well from his hesitant expression. But it only lasts for a moment. Then his features relax and he steps forward. “By my name, Zachariah Erenhart James, I request an intervention,” he yells.
“You have no right,” Kalise growls.
“My lord has given his permission,” Eleanor snaps. “And my son, your future lord, speaks.”
“Hah! Not the way he’s going.”
Zach’s hands ball at his sides. “I want to make a proposition to the Tome clan.”
“If it isn’t to surrender, you can shut up,” Alana says at the same time Kierra says, “Speak.”
My future saint looks at the elf with disbelief. I imagine my expression is the same. She grins viciously. “Speak your proposition, foolish cub.”
“Kii!”
“No.” Her eyes narrow as she turns toward me. “I want this.”
What?! This is not the time. “No.”
She moves toward me. After remaking myself, she doesn’t tower over me, but she still has the height advantage. Something I usually like but is incredibly annoying now. “I believe it is time for another challenge.”
Wait…she can’t mean…oh, not now, for the love of the saints!
“Speak quickly, boy,” my wife says, looking over her shoulder.
Zach seizes the opportunity. “All your enemies will fight you at once. Are you confident?”
“NO!” I shout alongside Alana.
“Yes,” Kierra replies, “but if the stakes have been raised, so must the reward. What will you offer?”
His thick brows are furrowed as he thinks. I grab my wife by the collar, drawing her attention back to me, ready to…I don’t know. Saints, why does she insist on making this more difficult than it needs to be?
Before I can find the words, she grabs me about the waist and pulls me close, lowering her head to whisper in my ear. “Have I not been good, dedia? I think I’ve been very good.”
“You’ve been great but that has nothing to do with—”
She pulls me tighter against her and lowers her voice to a volume only someone with our ridiculous hearing could pick up. “Good mates deserve rewards lest they think it better to be bad.”
“You…alright. Fine. A reward. No problem. Anything you want, after we finish—”
“I want this,” she hisses.
“Saints blessed asses, Kii—”
“Why are you so against this, my conqueror? Do you still not realize your power? Why deny me?”
“It’s not about that.” Is it? “I…this is Alana’s—”
Her hand grabs my chin, stopping my next words. “Are you not the head of this family? Perhaps you want to be a flower as well.”
I glare at her. Just because I don’t like taking risks and senseless slaughter does not make me soft. I won’t be goaded into thinking this is some kind of game!
I shake off her grip and push her away. “This is not the time.”
“I say it is.”
I close m eyes in exasperation. “I don’t suppose we can settle this with calm words and rationale.”
She growls. It’s not her sexy, beast in bed growl but her best impression of a hungry predator one second from extreme violence.
I had to marry the savage. Couldn’t find myself someone like her sister who spends her days dancing with butterflies or one of the Twilight elves who would have been content as long as they had free access to my body. Had to choose the former warrior with a troll fetish and a problematic battle lust.
“You’re about to have what promises to be the biggest fight of your life in less than a month,” I grumble.
“I want it now.”
“You—”
“I’ve come to a decision—”
“Shut up!” I shout at the stupid heir that is the root of my current problems. Am I going to have to fight her? To stop her from fighting the hunters? Just so I can kill them all anyway? No, it’s the principle of the thing. “This is all your fault so stay out of it!”
I turn away from the shocked heir. “No. We’re not doing this today. I am the head of this family and I’m telling you to put the claws away and calm down.”
To spite me, her nails blacken and lengthen to actual claws. “Make me.”
“Hey! You two—”
“I said shut it!” I roar at Zachariah.
“Lou.”
I turn to Alana. “One moment.”
“Lou.”
Hearing the change in her tone, I turn to her. Her eyes plead with me to calm down and I just manage. She flashes me the tiniest of smiles before erasing it and turning toward her brother. “There’s only one proposition we will accept.”
“Half!” His outrage lasts for only a moment. “…if my interests are on the line, they should be defended by one of my own. One of my bannermen will join the side of the hunters. And I request a period of time to address the hunters. Half an hour.”
My future saint smiles prettily. “A quarter of an hour and you have a deal.”
