Are nodded in agreement with Jigano's statement, whatever fortunes one could amass was all for naught when there was nothing to spend it on. Resources better spent greasing palms and sweetening pots to keep what little goodwill an outlander could expect topped up. Spending it like there was no tomorrow pained the cobbler, but he knew there would be no pardon for him when competition resurfaced. Equal parts steady, reliable output and magnificent one-offs was the only way he knew how to make enough of a mark to get on people's good side. 'Won in drops, lost in buckets', as the saying went, although Are couldn't remember if it was something he'd heard in Caido or Midgård.
The touch of humble realism reminded Are, a storyteller, a skald, with the same exact troubles. Something a less stubborn man would admit to changing his view of the silver-haired scholar, but stubbornness iron-shod by certain company and training refused to relent. At least at that moment.
"Songs and stories are needed still." Are said, mumbling uncharacteristically laconic, as if giving another inch was an unthinkable action of defeat suddenly. "We might not agree, but I'm not dishonorable, doesn't befit the warrior, no?" he grumbled in response, but bit his tongue as the worries in his mind grew. Genuine as Jigano seemed, Are still kept a little nugget of niggling doubt that it wasn't part of some grand scheme. Then came the dagger.
But instead of it being like ice the metaphorical steel threw a spark, one left smoldering as his heart stung with the memories rushing back. "Signe." Are said through gritted teeth behind pinched lips, tentative friendliness trickling out of the little hole. Eyes searched, putting the mind to work with finding a single sign of the plot he knew was there. "My wife...And no, not yet."
The touch of humble realism reminded Are, a storyteller, a skald, with the same exact troubles. Something a less stubborn man would admit to changing his view of the silver-haired scholar, but stubbornness iron-shod by certain company and training refused to relent. At least at that moment.
"Songs and stories are needed still." Are said, mumbling uncharacteristically laconic, as if giving another inch was an unthinkable action of defeat suddenly. "We might not agree, but I'm not dishonorable, doesn't befit the warrior, no?" he grumbled in response, but bit his tongue as the worries in his mind grew. Genuine as Jigano seemed, Are still kept a little nugget of niggling doubt that it wasn't part of some grand scheme. Then came the dagger.
But instead of it being like ice the metaphorical steel threw a spark, one left smoldering as his heart stung with the memories rushing back. "Signe." Are said through gritted teeth behind pinched lips, tentative friendliness trickling out of the little hole. Eyes searched, putting the mind to work with finding a single sign of the plot he knew was there. "My wife...And no, not yet."
