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[i]‘The bill,’[/i] Stravi’s father had been fond of saying, [i]‘always comes due.’[/i] Kaltner had used the line whenever his bookies demanded that he pay his gambling debts, or when another of his ill-advised business ventures failed and the Clan were forced to bear the brunt of the financial loss. It was an excuse, born of weakness. If the bill always came, how could Kaltner be to blame for it arriving? Whenever fortune turned against him – which it so often did – he would utter that phrase, [i]‘the bill always comes due,’[/i] usually with an air of considered ennui, and then move on, learning nothing from his failures. Just another of his father’s clever tricks to avoid having to take responsibility for his shortcomings.  

Stravi had been thinking of his father a lot recently. 

It was with something of a start that the Dwarven Lord came back into the room – well, tent – jolting slightly from his reverie as his comrades stirred, each struggling with Captain Vaughn’s words in their own ways. [i]At least none of them are naïve enough to refuse the Order’s ‘offer’,[/i] he thought to himself. He expected hysterics from some of the more ‘fragile’ recruits, like that half-elf wizard who had spent the whole voyage North sharing the contents of his stomach with the fishes, but thankfully they were all pragmatic enough to realise when that what the Captain called freedom was really little more than indentured servitude. 

However, any relief Stravi felt at the lack of whining histrionics was offset by the Necromancer’s mysterious antics. He had learnt over the years never to trust anything that he didn’t understand, and he had no more understanding of Lunearo and his motives than he did the minds of the Gods. One thing was painfully obvious though; that fanatic was going to be trouble. The same went for the Osiri gladiator. He’d heard she had led a failed revolt back in Eroammir, though it seemed she hadn’t learnt her lesson the first time around. She was just waiting for another revolution. The mercenary life attracted some pretty destructive individuals, and he’d developed a knack for spotting them. He recognised her for what she was the minute he laid eyes on her, just another soul living to get themselves killed.

Realising that Vaughn was going to continue on with the charade that they had a choice here until they all answered Stravi was forced to speak up. 

“The bill always comes due.” He sighed, voice deep and sonorous, and much warmer than one would expect from a kin-killer. “Now can we get on with it. The faster we fix Haev, the faster we leave his frozen cesspit.”