"F*ck off, PFC Mondt," Natalya waved.
"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!"
Mondt promptly spun on his heel and exited the tent.
"The stupid fish didn't even request permission to enter," Natalya sighed, shaking her head.
["Tycon."]
Another interruption. This one came from Tycondrius' earpiece... and in the (proper?) flavor of King Guorthigirn.
Tycon shared a dubious look with his companions before tapping the artifice and speaking aloud.
"Make it quick, Guorthigirn."
["They're, uh... asking for you."]
"...*Whom* is asking for me, exactly? PFC Mondt?"
["Kinda,"] the giant replied, "[The Highblade lass sent him. Time's up, I guess. The lizards want the name of our next champion."]
Tycon massaged the bridge of his nose, "Tell them to wait."
Sindal was getting anxious. It was 'best practice' to treat wartime opponents with honor and respect-- punctuality going along with the notions.
