"So what do you think, Boss?" Lone asked.
Tycondrius pulled out the chair to the desk, placing his hand on his chin in thought...
"Once we touch down at Cersei's Rest, we need to appeal to the highest power we can manage. Archbishop Crucis' assistance would behoove us in particular..."
He grit his teeth in annoyance, "--if she would deign to grace us with her presence."
Natalya wouldn't be happy to see him... but he was confident in being persistent enough to be granted an audience.
A dull thud rang out. Lone had struck his forehead against the bottom of Tycon's bunk, "Ow. No, Boss, I mean... you know... what do you think about the other passengers?"
Tycon tilted his head, pursing his lips. There were two other Iron-Ranks on the ship, Arod of House Highblade and the tiefling guild leader, Ramon. No one else was powerful enough to be of consequence.
"I advise you not to grow too close to Mister Ramon. Stupidity is contagious."
