“What are you doing in here?”

Saeros turned abruptly around, slipping the dagger he had been inspecting into his sleeve. His hands were joined together, the folds of fabric concealing the weapon and his sweaty palms. “Inventory,” answered the councilor in a calm voice, though he had to speak slow and softly in order to be understood.

“Bullshit,” replied Mablung. He took note of the jut that was out of place in the dark fabric; a blade of some sort, though there was no danger. Not yet, and certainly, no danger to him. “How is your jaw?”

A mere shrug, and Saeros shifted his hand in order to get a better grip on the dart he held.

“Why are you really here?” questioned Mablung.

Saeros turned away and walked further into the armory. “I came to retrieve my sword and shield. One never knows when an attack might occur, and I wish to be prepared.”

“If an attack occurs on Menegroth, you would not be in the forefront of the battle.” Mablung kept on Saeros’ heels, following him through the aisles of bows and arrows and weaponry, meticulously kept in perfect condition should a battle find its way within the girdle. As Saeros drew one of his hands from the sleeve of his robe and reached for a shield hanging upon the wall, Mablung set his hand heavily on his friend’s shoulder and forced him to turn around. “Leave it be.”

“If I want my shield, I will take it with me,” said Saeros angrily.

“You know what I am talking about. Leave the boy alone,” whispered Mablung.

Saeros narrowed his eyes and sneered. “The cub must be taught a lesson.”

“Not by you.” Mablung shook his head. “You were not appointed by luck, Saeros, so I know you can listen to reason and understand if you want to. He meant no offense to you, but you took it as such. You pushed and pushed and pushed—did you expect him not to push back?”

“He pushed too far,” hissed Saeros.

Mablung sighed. “He sat in your chair; you insult him, his mother, and his entire race. If it had been me and it was my mother you insulted, you would have left with more than a hurt mouth.”

“I fought with words; he took it to blows. I intend to end it.” Saeros turned back to his shield and swiftly took it from the wall, and gathered up his sword as well. As he walked past Mablung, he purposely knocked his shoulder against the captain, but Mablung stood his ground and did not follow.

“Take only what is yours Saeros,” warned Mablung as the councilor reached the door.

Saeros looked over his shoulder. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Leave the dagger,” said Mablung with a sigh, his back to Saeros. “If you are going to spill blood, do it with your own weapons, not mine.” The blade dropped with a heavy thud onto the floor. “Maybe you will change your mind after you sleep on it,” said Mablung hopefully.

“Doubtful.”

“Then it was a pleasure knowing you,” said Mablung with complete sincerity.

Saeros stopped and turned back, and saw Mablung was watching him now. “You trained me in combat,” he reminded the captain. “Have you so little faith in me?”

“Against most, no,” said Mablung. “But he has spent the last few years with Beleg. I may command a larger army than Beleg and be a better leader, but in combat against him I would fall.”

“You think I shall fall against this arrogant man-child?”

“I should hope not,” admitted Mablung, “but I should think so.”