For a Crandil male, he was big \u2013 tall, muscular, and clad in shining bronze mail over his russet pelt. His thick fur was marred in places by scars, sprinkled with grey, and his eyes were hard as he looked over his visitor.<\/p>\n
Smaller even than most Crandil men, that visitor was in some ways what the big warrior was not. He was sleek, handsome, and dark, wearing an elaborate wrap of many separate lengths of cloth. He might be beautiful if one liked that sort of youthful look, but in neither form nor demeanour was he very imposing.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo,\u201d the bigger man sneered, \u201cthis is the mighty Jisarr that the locals are clamouring for?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf they are, you likely know more about it than I do,\u201d the coal-furred young man replied. \u201cBut I am Jisarr, twenty-fifth of my name, which I’ve worn since my father died who bore it before me.\u201d<\/p>\n
A snort. \u201cFancy words. Do you think they make you fit to rule?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHardly, General Keslar. They’re what I was reared on. If anything I bear does, I’d guess it might be candour, conscience, or simply the weight of tradition.\u201d<\/p>\n
The grizzled general snorted, but didn’t dignify the latter points with a direct reply otherwise. \u201cYou know who I am, then.\u201d There was a dangerous edge to his voice, daring Jisarr to comment on some of his more infamous deeds.<\/p>\n
Jisarr didn’t take the bait. \u201cI know that you’re guard-captain of Tethrisal, militia-chief of the northern provinces, and commander of the Crandil element of the force that now holds the Deep.\u201d<\/p>\n
A growl rose in Keslar’s throat. \u201cAnd against those decades of experience, what? How many battles have you been in, whelp?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJust the one,\u201d Jisarr shot back, \u201cin which, unarmed and compelled not to fight, I faced down an armed guard-captain who could kill me with one blow and convinced her to shun atrocity. I’m not a complete innocent, General \u2013 and this isn’t a fighting war anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA politician would <\/i>say that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat’s more or less what I’ve been raised to be, I suppose.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd that’s<\/i> what they were chanting for in the square? Another twisty tunnel-worm?\u201d<\/p>\n
It was Jisarr’s turn to scoff. \u201cI have no love for scheming and machination, General. It killed my father; I’d rather not suffer the same fate.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, yes. That would be the horrible deed that compelled the Dukes to impose more sanctions on the provinces, wouldn’t it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey could hardly admit openly that they’d had it done themselves,\u201d Jisarr replied.<\/p>\n
Silence stretched out. For a moment Keslar seemed about to contest that assertion, but he paused, considering Jisarr’s expression, and in the end forebore. What he said, dangerously soft, was, \u201cIf you knew such a thing, why were they allowed to live to blame us?<\/i>\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI could hardly have all<\/i> of them killed over one assassin,\u201d Jisarr shot back. \u201cNor even stripped of their positions. Even if I’d tried, it wouldn’t be long before another mysterious assassin from the restive provinces found me.<\/i> I told you, General \u2013 I want nothing to do with courtly scheming.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf it’s such a miracle to survive each day, why do you want the title?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don’t,\u201d Jisarr breathed. \u201cThe thought terrifies me. But as you yourself have said several times today, General, there are a great many people who think I would do well to take it \u2013 and if I have some chance to do some good with my life, I can’t just turn my back on it.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
For a Crandil male, he was big \u2013 tall, muscular, and clad in shining bronze mail over his russet pelt. His thick fur was marred in places by scars, sprinkled with grey, and his eyes were hard as he looked over his visitor. Smaller even than most Crandil men, that visitor was in some ways […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[84],"class_list":["post-469","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-legacy","tag-flash"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/furry-tales.net\/shurhaian\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/469","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/furry-tales.net\/shurhaian\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/furry-tales.net\/shurhaian\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/furry-tales.net\/shurhaian\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/furry-tales.net\/shurhaian\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=469"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/furry-tales.net\/shurhaian\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/469\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":470,"href":"https:\/\/furry-tales.net\/shurhaian\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/469\/revisions\/470"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/furry-tales.net\/shurhaian\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=469"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/furry-tales.net\/shurhaian\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=469"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/furry-tales.net\/shurhaian\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=469"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}