No rest for the wicked

The Warlord considered her in silence for a moment. Taking his time to think over what she could offer in trade, and how much out of his way he might wish to go for this stranger. In the past, he would have dismissed her as a wolf who had nothing to offer him. But perhaps… perhaps a part of him recognised something in her. As a wolf who had come from an Empire, had known wolves capable of true evil, and left it all behind to forge something new for himself.

After a few moments, his eyes flickered over her, before inclining his head towards her. “If you’d consider it, I can suggest something else you could trade.” Before her mind could consider all the ways that could go wrong, he went on to add. “It would likely be mutually beneficial. I have a grandson who’s honing his skills in battle. He knows the forms but has little worldly experience. Trade some knowledge with him, do a couple of spars, and I will trade you a piece of armour and a weapon.” He suggested. She was getting the better end of the deal. But perhaps he could entice her to stay, and he would gain himself another warrior.

"Sirius Fatalis"