Tycondrius' irritated gaze drifted over the paltry force sent to capture him. He felt pressured because they were agents of the Church... but as only two of the enforcers were Iron-Rank, he did not feel *threatened.*
If he were to simply undim his vision, his ⌈Vexing Gaze⌋ skill could cripple or kill nearly all of them.
The dwarf did have a unique class... but as Hark was also Bronze-Rank, he would die just as easily.
"Mister Harkus, is this the Decanus the Archbishop wants?" An Iron-Rank enforcer asked.
"Aye..." Harkus glowered at Tycon, holding up a clenched fist... "You... boy... You owe me forty slugs."
That was the most preposterous statement Tycon had heard in moons.
He pulled his hood down, glaring sharply down at the unreasonable dwarf. Tycon was annoyed before, but the dwarf's accusation made him furious.
"Forty silver pieces..." Tycon scowled, "Are you trying to rob me, Master Dwarf?"
