The blood you bleed Is just the blood you owe

He opened the aged bottle with a couple of claws, and poured it into the two glasses Demelza had placed for them. The strong scent of it mixed well with the herbs his slave left around the den to freshen things up. Still bruised and bleeding, the newly made lead warrior tipped his glass back and had a hearty sip. It burned on the way down, strong and full bodies, leaving a hint of spices on his tongue.

“Sit. Drink.” he ordered her, not wishing her to wait until he was finished this time. Had she had liquor before? What he set before her was strong, potent and aged. Likey wasted on the likes of her, alas.


"Speech"