Knowing a Baron

ßαηαکɧεε (Nathyn Soothsayer) turned to walk to the doorway. " Come with me." He didn't wait to see Morion follow. He expected he would. He didn't even bother to open the door. He just walked outside. Standing on the stairwell to the war room he looked out to the practice area and pointed. "See that? Those men down there? New recruits. All of them. You know they signed up only after you were appointed as the new Heir? That one of the end there had a father that served under you until you left for the war. Died of some illness a year after. Father was some drunk until he signed up for the guard, but he stopped because he respected this young Noble upstart that led them all. In fact, they all have stories like that, as do the remaining guard that had served under you. They all seem to know you very well."

 

Morion Chaika followed him out and stood there watching him as he spoke. Finally he moved over to the railing to look down at the men there. He studied them in silence for a long moment before he finally gave a nod . Hands lifted as he brushed them back over his hair and he sighed softly then glanced to Brennan. " Well that seemed to work possibly better than punching me. Though I doubt it felt as good to you as doing the latter might have. I owe you thanks again . Now I just need to figure out how to keep them all safe and happy.

 

ßαηαکɧεε (Nathyn Soothsayer) kept his eyes on guard beneath them. He was picking apart their movements and methods, judging each for where strengths and weaknesses arose. It was the way of him to do so. Humans were always much easier to judge than Fae. They were far more simpler, in his opinion. "You know, they don't follow me because they respect me. I am still that... oh, how did you say it? Oh, right. I'm that wild, exotic Heathen of an Outsider. They each spat at me when my back is to them. They respect me because I will bring them pain and misery if they do not. However, they also respect me because I have asked them each who they respect most and aspire to be and I use that knowledge to push them. And that aspiration is you, my Lord. Your people love you and you moan whine like a petulant child over an acceptance you already have. You are a spoiled little child." He paused to look over his shoulder, "and that is why I despise you. Know that. For all your blessings and good qualities, I do hate you, but then, I hate everyone. So don't take it personal." He smirked then, " Yes, telling you that did feel better than punching you in the face, though that would have been wonderful too. You owe me a great deal, Morion di Saraceni. Pray that I never collect upon it."

Done