"As unfortunate as it is, it's clear he won't swear allegiance to me," Merelao mused, his voice carrying the faint itch of sadness. "A pity. He fought alongside my father, you know. I would have rejoiced to have someone of the old blood accompany me in battle.
Still, it seems time is the decayer of everything. I had wished to have him swear his sword to me; now, instead, I shall have to strike his with my own in a moon's time. A tragedy and a pity of the highest order."
Marcus made a conscious, Herculean effort to ignore the underlying cadence of the man's words. He had long ago decided that it was not his business to figure out who Merelao needed to execute just to get an erection. He was not a physician for the deranged.
"May I ask then," Marcus said, carefully steadying his voice, "what the good news is that cemented... such novelties?"
