Tavi of Calderon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
student_of_impossibility) wrote2016-04-05 06:10 am
student_of_impossibility) wrote2016-04-05 06:10 am
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[OOM: Riva] The Cost of Reconstruction
Tavi was almost strangely silent as Magnus finished his report. Ehren watched his old friend and new lord’s face intently, trying to find some clue as to which direction his endlessly-calculating mind would take them this time. He wasn’t the only one, either. High Lord Riva looked more than a little apprehensive—but then, he didn’t have much experience with Gaius Octavian’s temper, and many years’ worth with those of Gaius Sextus and Gaius Septimus.
And the fact of the matter was that the First Lord had every right to be absolutely livid. Ehren knew Tavi had to be seething, underneath the icy calm he somehow managed to keep on the surface. Two months after Third Calderon, and nearly six weeks since Riva had become the temporary capital, rebuilding efforts hadn’t progressed nearly as much as Tavi had hoped on either large or small scales. Across the Realm, even without direction the spiders still spread wax, which bred spiders; they were still working on how to maximize efficiency.
Closer to home, though, in Riva itself somehow work on hospitals and refugee shelters—to say nothing of simply rebuilding housing for all the displaced people either returning or looking for a new home—had gotten barely half as far as either Octavian or Riva, the experienced architect, had predicted.
The reason turned out to be simple enough. Predictable enough, as Magnus had pointed out. To have missed something so blindingly obvious must rankle even more with Tavi than it did with Ehren. Apparently they’d both counted too heavily on those with money and power being slightly less inclined towards self-indulgence given the circumstances.
“I see,” Tavi finally said, voice even. Ehren winced a little. Tavi turned his gaze to High Lord Riva. “The Citizens paying for private projects. You helped get their names?”
The High Lord cleared his throat a little. “Yes, Your Highness. After our last discussion, I began looking into the delays. Maestro Magnus and his people have been invaluable.” Tavi waved an impatient hand—yes, of course, the Cursors knew their business—and Riva fell silent as Tavi chewed his lip. “Most of them I know very well, my lord, so—”
“No.” For all that the response was immediate and unequivocal, the First Lord softened it with a smile. Not, Ehren decided, that the smile itself was soft; it was one of the chilliest he’d ever seen his friend wear. But at least Riva knew Gaius wasn’t angry at him. “It’s better for everyone if you stay on relatively good terms with them.”
Riva visibly tried not to look too relieved—something made easier as nervousness dawned. ‘Relatively’ good terms was not the most promising turn of phrase.
Kitai was tilting her head at them. “You said it isn’t as bad as it could have been. How?” she asked Riva, who blinked. “What made it better?”
Riva shrugged. “People help. Especially the ones who don’t have anything else to do.”
“Who are they?” she pressed—and quite suddenly Tavi smiled at her.
“Oh,” he said warmly. She smiled archly back, and as their eyes gleamed with identical energy, Ehren restrained himself from burying his face in his hands. He knew that look on their faces. It used to get him into trouble almost without fail.
Glancing between the two of them dubiously, Riva answered, “A lot of the native Rivans are trying to get back to what they used to do, but some people can’t go home. Other cities, countryfolk who lost land. They have the time, and you don’t always need skill to throw in a little extra muscle. One of the foremen working on the eastern walls mentioned a group of Attican steadholders who—”
Tavi held up a hand. “All right. Kitai, you’re right—it’s brilliant. Riva, I need you to talk to the Dianic League.”
With a wince, Ehren gently interjected, “Ah, sire, we did talk about this…” He hoped Tavi knew what that meant—the fact that there was only so much he could do on credit, and he was already playing the connection the League had with Gaius Isana for all it was worth. And they really only had so much borrowing they could withstand.
“I know. I don’t mean the main body of the League. They do as much local focus as we do. Talk to whoever’s overseeing their activity here in town. They’ll have a budget of their own, and they can’t be any happier than we are.” Tavi nodded at Riva. “We’ll have a more in-depth discussion about it first thing in the morning, but start talking to them. I want this fixed. Kitai?”
She nodded, standing gracefully. “I will go. Someone needs to explain your mad ideas.”
‘Yours, this time.”
She raised a playful eyebrow at him. “And, of course, you have no intention of doing more with it,” she said with heavy irony. “No matter. I know enough to speak with them about the beginnings of it. Is your mother in town?”
Tavi blinked, and Ehren suppressed a smile. His friend was really overworked, if he was losing track of his family’s travel. “She is,” he supplied.
“Oh. Good. She can help with the…” Tavi began as Kitai rolled her eyes, and then stopped. The pair traded another long, silent glance. Moments like this were enough to make Ehren wonder just how far the bond they quite obviously shared really went. Then Tavi’s eyes flicked down to Kitai’s stomach, which had recently begun to show her pregnancy, and Ehren understood and decided to follow Magnus and Riva’s lead and look away briefly. “…Right. Then I’ll see you and Mother at dinner.”
“Yes. Remember, chala, I want to watch.” Ehren looked back at her tone. Kitai’s smile was almost predatory, enough to make Riva clear his throat with some alarm.
With a laugh Tavi leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I know,” he replied dryly, before turning back to the High Lord. “Don’t worry about it. Just help your people. And Riva? This isn’t just about your city, so get it done.”
The older lord frowned at him. “Some of the politicians aren’t originally from here, Gaius, but I’m not sure I see how this is…”
“This can’t be isolated,” Tavi interrupted. His green eyes glittered with the intensity that was slowly but surely stitching the tatters of the Realm back into a cohesive whole. “If my mother or some of the other, higher-up ladies in the League are there, not just the local leadership, they’ll probably know that too. Now that we know what to look for, we’ll find those problem spots more quickly. After that, it’s a matter of solutions. You help your people here, it’ll give us the framework to do it again, as many times and in as many places as we have to.”
Watching other people catch Tavi’s passion and drive simply by exposure was fascinating to watch. Ehren hid his smile at Riva’s expression, recognizing a man who was reluctant to get excited but didn’t even realize how far in over his head he’d already fallen. “We’ll see to it, my lord,” the High Lord promised with a bow. After a moment he turned somewhat awkwardly to Kitai to offer her an arm. She seemed almost surprised as she accepted it with a graceful smile.
Tavi watched them go, eyebrows faintly raised. “I’m almost surprised he’s adjusting so quickly,” he commented as the door shut behind them. “He’s never exactly been terribly enthusiastic about my family.”
Magnus chuckled a little. “No, but he’s not a stupid man either. I gather he learned a few hard truths at Third Calderon.”
“And we’re giving him plenty of business,” Ehren added. “And the Marat are likely to, if he gets over himself.”
With a laugh, Tavi let his head drop onto his hands. “Well, he’s coming around, at least, and it’s bringing some of the less conservative types over too. At least he’s settled on something to call me. I’m still not used to hearing ‘Gaius’ out of people.”
Magnus and Ehren exchanged a glance. The admission was surprising, though they were in private. “You never had a problem before,” Ehren said after a moment. Never seemed to, at any rate.
“Those were different. ‘Gaius’ is still…” Tavi stopped, and the moment hung awkwardly for a moment. “I suppose I’m still working the edges off it.”
Ehren wasn’t sure what to say. Titles, those didn’t seem to faze Tavi, be it military command or those of the Princeps or First Lord. Even though ‘Gaius’ was very nearly a title in and of itself, though, it seemed to remind Tavi more of his grandfather and whatever was left unsaid between them.
Clearing his throat, Magnus smiled a little sadly at Tavi. “I started my Cursor training under Quintias, you know.”
Both Ehren and Tavi looked at the old man with surprise. “No,” Tavi spoke for them both. “I suppose I hadn’t realized.”
Ehren, truthfully, had never even paused to consider it. Not many people still alive would remember Gaius Quintias, and suddenly he had a wealth of questions to ask Magnus about the succession of men he’d served so faithfully. “I never knew him well, of course, but I did speak with him a few times. Even when I was still training I spoke to the Princeps more than Quintias, because—well, there were a lot of reasons.”
As Magnus shook his head at some memory, Ehren caught the look on Tavi’s face. His eyes were a little too tight at the edges, though the avid curiosity was still bright in them. Somewhat to Ehren’s dismay, though, his friend didn’t voice whatever questions he must have been thinking—nor any that Ehren was thinking.
“Things were different then. But I remember, almost a year after he became First Lord, that Quintias said something to another of the Cursors about how your grandfather was finally getting used to not having to check if Quintias was in the room before answering to the name.” The old Cursor laughed a little, helplessly. “You’ll get used to it. You just need time.”
Tavi was silent for a moment, but with a very faint smile that spoke volumes. “Speaking of time,” he said with the anger he had been hiding during the meeting with Riva finally surfacing, “we don’t have much of it. I’m only in town for a few days. Labor’s the first issue. Both of you have some more detective work to do for me. Ehren.”
“Yes, sire?”
“Take Magnus’ list of the architects getting paid for other work and look into their subordinates. Any of them who aren’t working on outside projects, are working extra trying to meet our goals, or doing volunteer work outside of the job? Or anything else that indicates they aren’t cut from the same cloth as their bosses, for that matter. We’ll hire them directly. When they have a working budget, they’ll hire trustworthy workers and that should mostly sort itself out. Completing that ‘mostly,’ Magnus, that’s on you. Find out who’s been doing volunteer construction work. We’ll hire them too.”
Ehren blinked. He saw Magnus do the same.
Tavi’s warmth and energy had returned. “We need to get the economy going again anyway, and right now we have a lot of people just trying to make it from one day to the next. Something to do will take their minds off things—keep down disorder—and if it’s productive and they get paid, whether that’s in money or goods, we’ll work that out with help from the League and others—then things will hopefully go back to normal faster.”
“Not to sour that thought,” Ehren put in, “but we’ll need that money to come from somewhere.”
“It will,” the First Lord replied—and as frost jumped back into those two simple words, Ehren’s sense of foreboding came back.
Ehren and Magnus exchanged a glance. “Sire?”
“There’s what we would have been paying the architects we won’t be working with, for one. That should take care of stealing the people working for them.”
Ehren nodded. That much seemed reasonable. “How do you plan to tell them?”
“I don’t.” Tavi shrugged fluidly. “They can walk in and find their former subordinates now in charge of sites, and either work for hire or go on getting paid for their work by Citizens who can afford it. They’ve already renegotiated terms of their hire with us without bothering to speak to us. I see no reason to go out of my way to do them any favors.”
Ego. Tavi was going to hit them in their egos by refusing to even acknowledge their existence on top of the inevitable hit to their purses when they weren’t getting paid for public work. Word would get around, too. Ehren took a deep breath and nodded.
“What about hiring volunteers?” Magnus asked quietly.
Gaius Octavian smiled.
Ehren would never, in his whole life, stop associating that look with ‘going to breakfast.’
“Oh, I’m sure it will be covered by the charitable donations of civic-minded Citizens,” the First Lord said with airy mildness barely masking steely undertones. “They’ve discovered that they have the resources to see to the beautification of the city, after all, and are more than happy to share their good fortune at surviving the war with so much with others. After all, everyone benefits from good infrastructure.”
Wetting his lips nervously, Ehren glanced towards Magnus. The Senate had already begun meeting, and the inevitable battles that Tavi’s supporters and political allies would doubtless spend his entire reign fighting were in their early stages. But what Tavi was talking about was a very different, far more personal kind of political warfare. “I… see,” Magnus said carefully. “I assume they will discover this when you tell them about it?”
“This evening. We’ll also be discussing appropriate property taxes considering how many people have nothing.” Tavi rose and headed for the door. “I have a meeting in five minutes. You have your jobs—and if you get names of any Citizens that aren’t on that list, add them. I don’t want to leave anyone out.”
Both Cursors nodded. “When should we tell them?”
Tavi paused, considering. “I want the messages reaching them during dinner that they have half an hour to get here, and I do not want them to know why. I don’t want them eating comfortably tonight. Then they can wait here until I’m ready for them,” he said, nearly shoving the door open. “I want them in my office—do I have an office? Never mind, find me an office—before they’ve had time to start digesting. I don’t want them sleeping well tonight either.”
The door closed with rather more force than Ehren expected, and he raised his eyebrows at it slightly. Apparently Tavi was much angrier than he was showing even to them. For a long moment he and Magnus were silent together.
“When the Ambassador said she wanted to watch…” Magnus began.
Ehren nodded. “The metaphorical carnage, yes.”
“We can only hope,” the old Cursor snorted. “If he’s holding his temper until he can use it against the people actually causing it…”
“I’m sure he doesn’t want it to come to worse.” Ehren was absolutely confident in that, and something in his voice made Magnus turn to him with curiosity. “I know that look. He doesn’t want them to bleed, he wants them to hurt. He’ll spend all day working out how.”
Magnus rolled his eyes skyward with a long breath, as if searching for patience. Ehren elected not to hear what he muttered under his breath about the boy being the death of him one of these days. Finally Magnus sighed and made his own way towards the door. “Then I suppose we’d best get to work.”
And the fact of the matter was that the First Lord had every right to be absolutely livid. Ehren knew Tavi had to be seething, underneath the icy calm he somehow managed to keep on the surface. Two months after Third Calderon, and nearly six weeks since Riva had become the temporary capital, rebuilding efforts hadn’t progressed nearly as much as Tavi had hoped on either large or small scales. Across the Realm, even without direction the spiders still spread wax, which bred spiders; they were still working on how to maximize efficiency.
Closer to home, though, in Riva itself somehow work on hospitals and refugee shelters—to say nothing of simply rebuilding housing for all the displaced people either returning or looking for a new home—had gotten barely half as far as either Octavian or Riva, the experienced architect, had predicted.
The reason turned out to be simple enough. Predictable enough, as Magnus had pointed out. To have missed something so blindingly obvious must rankle even more with Tavi than it did with Ehren. Apparently they’d both counted too heavily on those with money and power being slightly less inclined towards self-indulgence given the circumstances.
“I see,” Tavi finally said, voice even. Ehren winced a little. Tavi turned his gaze to High Lord Riva. “The Citizens paying for private projects. You helped get their names?”
The High Lord cleared his throat a little. “Yes, Your Highness. After our last discussion, I began looking into the delays. Maestro Magnus and his people have been invaluable.” Tavi waved an impatient hand—yes, of course, the Cursors knew their business—and Riva fell silent as Tavi chewed his lip. “Most of them I know very well, my lord, so—”
“No.” For all that the response was immediate and unequivocal, the First Lord softened it with a smile. Not, Ehren decided, that the smile itself was soft; it was one of the chilliest he’d ever seen his friend wear. But at least Riva knew Gaius wasn’t angry at him. “It’s better for everyone if you stay on relatively good terms with them.”
Riva visibly tried not to look too relieved—something made easier as nervousness dawned. ‘Relatively’ good terms was not the most promising turn of phrase.
Kitai was tilting her head at them. “You said it isn’t as bad as it could have been. How?” she asked Riva, who blinked. “What made it better?”
Riva shrugged. “People help. Especially the ones who don’t have anything else to do.”
“Who are they?” she pressed—and quite suddenly Tavi smiled at her.
“Oh,” he said warmly. She smiled archly back, and as their eyes gleamed with identical energy, Ehren restrained himself from burying his face in his hands. He knew that look on their faces. It used to get him into trouble almost without fail.
Glancing between the two of them dubiously, Riva answered, “A lot of the native Rivans are trying to get back to what they used to do, but some people can’t go home. Other cities, countryfolk who lost land. They have the time, and you don’t always need skill to throw in a little extra muscle. One of the foremen working on the eastern walls mentioned a group of Attican steadholders who—”
Tavi held up a hand. “All right. Kitai, you’re right—it’s brilliant. Riva, I need you to talk to the Dianic League.”
With a wince, Ehren gently interjected, “Ah, sire, we did talk about this…” He hoped Tavi knew what that meant—the fact that there was only so much he could do on credit, and he was already playing the connection the League had with Gaius Isana for all it was worth. And they really only had so much borrowing they could withstand.
“I know. I don’t mean the main body of the League. They do as much local focus as we do. Talk to whoever’s overseeing their activity here in town. They’ll have a budget of their own, and they can’t be any happier than we are.” Tavi nodded at Riva. “We’ll have a more in-depth discussion about it first thing in the morning, but start talking to them. I want this fixed. Kitai?”
She nodded, standing gracefully. “I will go. Someone needs to explain your mad ideas.”
‘Yours, this time.”
She raised a playful eyebrow at him. “And, of course, you have no intention of doing more with it,” she said with heavy irony. “No matter. I know enough to speak with them about the beginnings of it. Is your mother in town?”
Tavi blinked, and Ehren suppressed a smile. His friend was really overworked, if he was losing track of his family’s travel. “She is,” he supplied.
“Oh. Good. She can help with the…” Tavi began as Kitai rolled her eyes, and then stopped. The pair traded another long, silent glance. Moments like this were enough to make Ehren wonder just how far the bond they quite obviously shared really went. Then Tavi’s eyes flicked down to Kitai’s stomach, which had recently begun to show her pregnancy, and Ehren understood and decided to follow Magnus and Riva’s lead and look away briefly. “…Right. Then I’ll see you and Mother at dinner.”
“Yes. Remember, chala, I want to watch.” Ehren looked back at her tone. Kitai’s smile was almost predatory, enough to make Riva clear his throat with some alarm.
With a laugh Tavi leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I know,” he replied dryly, before turning back to the High Lord. “Don’t worry about it. Just help your people. And Riva? This isn’t just about your city, so get it done.”
The older lord frowned at him. “Some of the politicians aren’t originally from here, Gaius, but I’m not sure I see how this is…”
“This can’t be isolated,” Tavi interrupted. His green eyes glittered with the intensity that was slowly but surely stitching the tatters of the Realm back into a cohesive whole. “If my mother or some of the other, higher-up ladies in the League are there, not just the local leadership, they’ll probably know that too. Now that we know what to look for, we’ll find those problem spots more quickly. After that, it’s a matter of solutions. You help your people here, it’ll give us the framework to do it again, as many times and in as many places as we have to.”
Watching other people catch Tavi’s passion and drive simply by exposure was fascinating to watch. Ehren hid his smile at Riva’s expression, recognizing a man who was reluctant to get excited but didn’t even realize how far in over his head he’d already fallen. “We’ll see to it, my lord,” the High Lord promised with a bow. After a moment he turned somewhat awkwardly to Kitai to offer her an arm. She seemed almost surprised as she accepted it with a graceful smile.
Tavi watched them go, eyebrows faintly raised. “I’m almost surprised he’s adjusting so quickly,” he commented as the door shut behind them. “He’s never exactly been terribly enthusiastic about my family.”
Magnus chuckled a little. “No, but he’s not a stupid man either. I gather he learned a few hard truths at Third Calderon.”
“And we’re giving him plenty of business,” Ehren added. “And the Marat are likely to, if he gets over himself.”
With a laugh, Tavi let his head drop onto his hands. “Well, he’s coming around, at least, and it’s bringing some of the less conservative types over too. At least he’s settled on something to call me. I’m still not used to hearing ‘Gaius’ out of people.”
Magnus and Ehren exchanged a glance. The admission was surprising, though they were in private. “You never had a problem before,” Ehren said after a moment. Never seemed to, at any rate.
“Those were different. ‘Gaius’ is still…” Tavi stopped, and the moment hung awkwardly for a moment. “I suppose I’m still working the edges off it.”
Ehren wasn’t sure what to say. Titles, those didn’t seem to faze Tavi, be it military command or those of the Princeps or First Lord. Even though ‘Gaius’ was very nearly a title in and of itself, though, it seemed to remind Tavi more of his grandfather and whatever was left unsaid between them.
Clearing his throat, Magnus smiled a little sadly at Tavi. “I started my Cursor training under Quintias, you know.”
Both Ehren and Tavi looked at the old man with surprise. “No,” Tavi spoke for them both. “I suppose I hadn’t realized.”
Ehren, truthfully, had never even paused to consider it. Not many people still alive would remember Gaius Quintias, and suddenly he had a wealth of questions to ask Magnus about the succession of men he’d served so faithfully. “I never knew him well, of course, but I did speak with him a few times. Even when I was still training I spoke to the Princeps more than Quintias, because—well, there were a lot of reasons.”
As Magnus shook his head at some memory, Ehren caught the look on Tavi’s face. His eyes were a little too tight at the edges, though the avid curiosity was still bright in them. Somewhat to Ehren’s dismay, though, his friend didn’t voice whatever questions he must have been thinking—nor any that Ehren was thinking.
“Things were different then. But I remember, almost a year after he became First Lord, that Quintias said something to another of the Cursors about how your grandfather was finally getting used to not having to check if Quintias was in the room before answering to the name.” The old Cursor laughed a little, helplessly. “You’ll get used to it. You just need time.”
Tavi was silent for a moment, but with a very faint smile that spoke volumes. “Speaking of time,” he said with the anger he had been hiding during the meeting with Riva finally surfacing, “we don’t have much of it. I’m only in town for a few days. Labor’s the first issue. Both of you have some more detective work to do for me. Ehren.”
“Yes, sire?”
“Take Magnus’ list of the architects getting paid for other work and look into their subordinates. Any of them who aren’t working on outside projects, are working extra trying to meet our goals, or doing volunteer work outside of the job? Or anything else that indicates they aren’t cut from the same cloth as their bosses, for that matter. We’ll hire them directly. When they have a working budget, they’ll hire trustworthy workers and that should mostly sort itself out. Completing that ‘mostly,’ Magnus, that’s on you. Find out who’s been doing volunteer construction work. We’ll hire them too.”
Ehren blinked. He saw Magnus do the same.
Tavi’s warmth and energy had returned. “We need to get the economy going again anyway, and right now we have a lot of people just trying to make it from one day to the next. Something to do will take their minds off things—keep down disorder—and if it’s productive and they get paid, whether that’s in money or goods, we’ll work that out with help from the League and others—then things will hopefully go back to normal faster.”
“Not to sour that thought,” Ehren put in, “but we’ll need that money to come from somewhere.”
“It will,” the First Lord replied—and as frost jumped back into those two simple words, Ehren’s sense of foreboding came back.
Ehren and Magnus exchanged a glance. “Sire?”
“There’s what we would have been paying the architects we won’t be working with, for one. That should take care of stealing the people working for them.”
Ehren nodded. That much seemed reasonable. “How do you plan to tell them?”
“I don’t.” Tavi shrugged fluidly. “They can walk in and find their former subordinates now in charge of sites, and either work for hire or go on getting paid for their work by Citizens who can afford it. They’ve already renegotiated terms of their hire with us without bothering to speak to us. I see no reason to go out of my way to do them any favors.”
Ego. Tavi was going to hit them in their egos by refusing to even acknowledge their existence on top of the inevitable hit to their purses when they weren’t getting paid for public work. Word would get around, too. Ehren took a deep breath and nodded.
“What about hiring volunteers?” Magnus asked quietly.
Gaius Octavian smiled.
Ehren would never, in his whole life, stop associating that look with ‘going to breakfast.’
“Oh, I’m sure it will be covered by the charitable donations of civic-minded Citizens,” the First Lord said with airy mildness barely masking steely undertones. “They’ve discovered that they have the resources to see to the beautification of the city, after all, and are more than happy to share their good fortune at surviving the war with so much with others. After all, everyone benefits from good infrastructure.”
Wetting his lips nervously, Ehren glanced towards Magnus. The Senate had already begun meeting, and the inevitable battles that Tavi’s supporters and political allies would doubtless spend his entire reign fighting were in their early stages. But what Tavi was talking about was a very different, far more personal kind of political warfare. “I… see,” Magnus said carefully. “I assume they will discover this when you tell them about it?”
“This evening. We’ll also be discussing appropriate property taxes considering how many people have nothing.” Tavi rose and headed for the door. “I have a meeting in five minutes. You have your jobs—and if you get names of any Citizens that aren’t on that list, add them. I don’t want to leave anyone out.”
Both Cursors nodded. “When should we tell them?”
Tavi paused, considering. “I want the messages reaching them during dinner that they have half an hour to get here, and I do not want them to know why. I don’t want them eating comfortably tonight. Then they can wait here until I’m ready for them,” he said, nearly shoving the door open. “I want them in my office—do I have an office? Never mind, find me an office—before they’ve had time to start digesting. I don’t want them sleeping well tonight either.”
The door closed with rather more force than Ehren expected, and he raised his eyebrows at it slightly. Apparently Tavi was much angrier than he was showing even to them. For a long moment he and Magnus were silent together.
“When the Ambassador said she wanted to watch…” Magnus began.
Ehren nodded. “The metaphorical carnage, yes.”
“We can only hope,” the old Cursor snorted. “If he’s holding his temper until he can use it against the people actually causing it…”
“I’m sure he doesn’t want it to come to worse.” Ehren was absolutely confident in that, and something in his voice made Magnus turn to him with curiosity. “I know that look. He doesn’t want them to bleed, he wants them to hurt. He’ll spend all day working out how.”
Magnus rolled his eyes skyward with a long breath, as if searching for patience. Ehren elected not to hear what he muttered under his breath about the boy being the death of him one of these days. Finally Magnus sighed and made his own way towards the door. “Then I suppose we’d best get to work.”