The Scythe

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Though they intended to ride out early, Disseus was too restless to sleep.

Hearing laughter and men roaring in merriment, Lonnix found him back at the tables consuming pitchers of ale in a way Lon had never seen.

Men chanted. Cheering him on.

Disseus responded by guzzling appropriately.

Lonnix eyed him warily.

Approaching to pull him aside, Lonnix mumured. "It seems clear to me that taking the most violent mercenary ever to cross Ardae, putting him in a brawling mood and than pouring ridiculous quantities of ale in him, seems in poor judgment."

"Does it?" Disseus tipped up his mug. Giving Lon a dark look over the rim. "They don't know who I am."


Pushing through the crowd he led Disseus from the group. “Disseus, My Friend, perhaps we should join our beds?”

Disseus gave him a hearty shove back and rounded to rejoin the group. Teetering a moment before thinking better of it and muttering. "Or perhaps I should join hers..."

Lonnix’s eyes widened. “Oh...I don’t think that'd be wise.”

“Nothing ever is when it comes to her.” Staring up at the closed door on the second floor, he made his way across the room toward the steps.

Lon made a grab for his cloak, but Disseus’ long stride had taken him out of reach too quickly.

“Oh...No.” Lonnix muttered watching him take the stairs two at a time, leaning heavily on the railing. Deciding to follow in the hopes he could catch Disseus should the man go backward, he took the stairs as well. Grimacing.

Eying the tall frame and wide shoulders which he knew were entirely muscle bound, he doubted he’d manage to catch either of them if Disseus went over.

Turning at the top, Disseus headed down the hallway boots creaking over the floor. As he reached the door it was tossed open and the pointed tip of a blade protruded from the doorway.

Whatever was said was low enough Lon couldn’t hear it.

But Disseus laughed in response, and her blade went higher.

Still laughing he leaned in the doorway. “We’ll see about that!”

And the door was promptly slammed in his face.

Chuckling, he strode down the hallway.

Lon met him at the top of the stairs, afraid he’d try to go back down.

But Disseus strode past him and he blew a thankful breath.

“What is it about this woman?”

“Nim?” Disseus asked in uncharacteristic surprise, drawing to a stop without turning.

“I didn’t think that was her name.”

“It is.” He was walking again. “She’s my woman and always has been.”

Before Lonnix could ask what he meant or point out how distracted he was, Disseus had closed the door to his room.

Shaking his head, Lon drug his feet all the way to his chamber mumbling. “Not well. Not well.”

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