(no subject)
Cinnamon Swirl #22. Honor Among Thieves
with Hot Fudge, Sprinkles, and Malt
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1251
Word Count : 718
Malt Prompt : (summer challenge)He had it coming, he had it coming/He took a flower in its prime/And then he used it, and he abused it/It was a murder, but not a crime!--"Cell Block Tango" from Chicago
In case of confusion, you are remembering right, they're not really related, but as far as Tarek's concerned she's his now.
Tarek burst into Berwyk’s office, a fist shaking at the portly mage at the desk before the door had even shut behind him. “Berwyk! I’ll have a word with you.”
Reclining atop a pair of bookcases, Roul made rather a loud show of stifling a yawn. “What is it, old man?” he said.
Tarek glowered at the boy. “Don’t you ‘old man’ me. You’re twice my age if you’re a day. Both of you,” he amended, turning back to the man behind the desk. The mountain that was Master Hakaro loomed behind him, idly drumming his thick fingers on yet another bookcase. “I take it I’m interrupting something?”
With a jovial grin, Master Berwyk spread his hands over the desk. “We were simply discussing the progress of Master Hakaro’s sword drills.” Tarek ignored the man’s gesture that he should take a seat.
“Or the lack thereof,” said Roul, in that sing-song voice of his that brought Hakaro’s bushy browed glare his way.
“I cannot help it that Master Berwyk has seen fit to have me training girls and weaklings.”
“Well I’ve got a use you could put a blade to,” Tarek snapped.
“Oh?” said Berwyk, and the other two ceased their bickering to turn and look at him as well.
“A certain one of our brothers could stand to lose a few inches where it hurts.”
Roul snickered at that. Berwyk’s cheer faltered. “Now, Tarek-”
Tarek slammed a hand on the desk. “I want that pig off my daughter. That’s what I came here for.” Berwyk barely so much as blinked.
Hakaro sniffed. “I’ll wager that rat you call a daughter is as much to blame in this as Ephram.”
“Good gods, man, she’s sixteen!” He turned back to Berwyk, who still hadn’t moved. “He’s been taking a knife to her!”
“And she keeps coming back for more,” said Hakaro. “If there is someone in this manor that needs a lashing it’s your brat.”
Roul choked on a giggle. “Wake up to pincers again, did you?”
A flush swept over Master Hakaro, and he hastily shut his mouth.
“Again?” Tarek sighed, and the warrior only burned even redder. “I’ve had words about that with her. I assure you she will be punished. But Ephram…”
“Have you tried talking to her about Ephram?” Berwyk offered, calmly.
“Until I’m blue. It goes right through her. You know, it’s bad enough that you let these kids run about like animals, doing as they damn well please to each other. We don’t need our lot preying on them besides.”
“So what would you have me do?”
“I want you to talk to Ephram.” There was another poorly concealed giggle from atop the bookshelves.
Tarek balled his fist on the desktop. “You’ll do something, or Reida and I will be leaving.” Still no reaction. Tarek decided to up the ante. “Guilford Branimir offered me a fine position.”
Berwyk’s face puckered at that. “Branimir?” he said. “You don’t want to work for that snake.”
“I don’t want to work next to that pig either.”
Roul gave another great show of yawning and stretching that nearly sent him rolling from his ridiculous perch. “You know,” he said, “you’re worrying far too much about things you really shouldn’t.”
“Don’t you start now too.” Tarek waved a finger at him.
“Oh, no, no!” said Roul forcing himself up onto an elbow to look down at him. “I quite agree. The man is filth of the lowest degree. I simply don’t think he’ll be troubling anyone for long.”
“You’ve had a vision?” Berwyk asked him nervously.
“Pfft.” Roul waved him off. “Who needs a vision? I’ve seen arrogance to the point of folly enough times in the flesh, thank you.”
“Visions or experience or whatever,” said Tarek, “I don’t care what sort of terrible end our esteemed brother is in for down the road. I want you to do something about him now.”
Gathering his hands on the desk in front of him, Berwyk sighed. “I will see what I can do,” he said. “But you know Ephram.”
“The only thing that works on Ephram is fear,” said Tarek. “And the only one he’s afraid of is you. Gods only know why.” He sighed. “I’ll…leave you to your sword talk. Just please, put an end to this already.”
with Hot Fudge, Sprinkles, and Malt
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1251
Word Count : 718
Malt Prompt : (summer challenge)He had it coming, he had it coming/He took a flower in its prime/And then he used it, and he abused it/It was a murder, but not a crime!--"Cell Block Tango" from Chicago
In case of confusion, you are remembering right, they're not really related, but as far as Tarek's concerned she's his now.
Tarek burst into Berwyk’s office, a fist shaking at the portly mage at the desk before the door had even shut behind him. “Berwyk! I’ll have a word with you.”
Reclining atop a pair of bookcases, Roul made rather a loud show of stifling a yawn. “What is it, old man?” he said.
Tarek glowered at the boy. “Don’t you ‘old man’ me. You’re twice my age if you’re a day. Both of you,” he amended, turning back to the man behind the desk. The mountain that was Master Hakaro loomed behind him, idly drumming his thick fingers on yet another bookcase. “I take it I’m interrupting something?”
With a jovial grin, Master Berwyk spread his hands over the desk. “We were simply discussing the progress of Master Hakaro’s sword drills.” Tarek ignored the man’s gesture that he should take a seat.
“Or the lack thereof,” said Roul, in that sing-song voice of his that brought Hakaro’s bushy browed glare his way.
“I cannot help it that Master Berwyk has seen fit to have me training girls and weaklings.”
“Well I’ve got a use you could put a blade to,” Tarek snapped.
“Oh?” said Berwyk, and the other two ceased their bickering to turn and look at him as well.
“A certain one of our brothers could stand to lose a few inches where it hurts.”
Roul snickered at that. Berwyk’s cheer faltered. “Now, Tarek-”
Tarek slammed a hand on the desk. “I want that pig off my daughter. That’s what I came here for.” Berwyk barely so much as blinked.
Hakaro sniffed. “I’ll wager that rat you call a daughter is as much to blame in this as Ephram.”
“Good gods, man, she’s sixteen!” He turned back to Berwyk, who still hadn’t moved. “He’s been taking a knife to her!”
“And she keeps coming back for more,” said Hakaro. “If there is someone in this manor that needs a lashing it’s your brat.”
Roul choked on a giggle. “Wake up to pincers again, did you?”
A flush swept over Master Hakaro, and he hastily shut his mouth.
“Again?” Tarek sighed, and the warrior only burned even redder. “I’ve had words about that with her. I assure you she will be punished. But Ephram…”
“Have you tried talking to her about Ephram?” Berwyk offered, calmly.
“Until I’m blue. It goes right through her. You know, it’s bad enough that you let these kids run about like animals, doing as they damn well please to each other. We don’t need our lot preying on them besides.”
“So what would you have me do?”
“I want you to talk to Ephram.” There was another poorly concealed giggle from atop the bookshelves.
Tarek balled his fist on the desktop. “You’ll do something, or Reida and I will be leaving.” Still no reaction. Tarek decided to up the ante. “Guilford Branimir offered me a fine position.”
Berwyk’s face puckered at that. “Branimir?” he said. “You don’t want to work for that snake.”
“I don’t want to work next to that pig either.”
Roul gave another great show of yawning and stretching that nearly sent him rolling from his ridiculous perch. “You know,” he said, “you’re worrying far too much about things you really shouldn’t.”
“Don’t you start now too.” Tarek waved a finger at him.
“Oh, no, no!” said Roul forcing himself up onto an elbow to look down at him. “I quite agree. The man is filth of the lowest degree. I simply don’t think he’ll be troubling anyone for long.”
“You’ve had a vision?” Berwyk asked him nervously.
“Pfft.” Roul waved him off. “Who needs a vision? I’ve seen arrogance to the point of folly enough times in the flesh, thank you.”
“Visions or experience or whatever,” said Tarek, “I don’t care what sort of terrible end our esteemed brother is in for down the road. I want you to do something about him now.”
Gathering his hands on the desk in front of him, Berwyk sighed. “I will see what I can do,” he said. “But you know Ephram.”
“The only thing that works on Ephram is fear,” said Tarek. “And the only one he’s afraid of is you. Gods only know why.” He sighed. “I’ll…leave you to your sword talk. Just please, put an end to this already.”