Talking Shop

The Warlord offered a small smile at this. She didn’t, couldn’t, know what it meant to the Armada. If she did, she would know how far in her debt it would place his pack. As it was, he filed away what he owed, and a silent promise to find a way to repay her - past just a trade of weapons. “Thank you.” He said.

He shook his head as she started to slip off the coat. “Hang onto it, or you’ll freeze five steps from the Armada. Think how it would look if the Alpha of Ethne died just outside my territory?” There was a hint of teasing in his eyes. It was subtle, but there for anyone that thought to look. “Do you need a guide out of the North?” He asked, since she was clearly unfamiliar with these lands.


"Speech"