"Are you sure you don't want me to escort you the rest of the way?" Sabil asked. He stretched, and squinted into the blazing sun. Waves of heat emanated from the ground, twisting the horizon any which way it rose. 

"No need, Captain Sabil," Kutur responded, scratching the bump on his head. Of course, he was Strategos Sabil now, he just didn't know it yet. Swept without his knowing into the coalition of the new kobold nobility. What a force they would be, together against the imperial legion. Rughoi's power is waning with the peace, and they know it as well as he. "You should be off. The Talon Pass won't watch itself." Sabil bowed his head and rattled his gear, taking off for the horizon where his men await. 

Kutur watched him go with dispassionate eyes. Sabil was a strange character, younger even than Rughoi. Unlike many of the officers in the legion, Sabil joined the army after the establishment of Xigyll, and outside of a few raids on undefended dracon merchants, has never seen battle at all. He would never have gotten to the position he held at all if not for a fateful meeting the two of them had, not too long ago, nothing more than a pleasant chat at the riverside market. Kutur pulled a few strings, and presto, a new captaincy position opened up. Despite that, however, Kutur remained confident that this young warrior would become a talented commander, perhaps even rising through the new nobilities to become a dux. He has already exhibited impressive competence in organizing his small band, and seems eager enough for more power.

All of that shall have to wait. Kutur excitedly looked down at the bag in his hand. A few more "chance" encounters like this in the fish market and this may become a regular thing. Perhaps he was getting old . . . what a scary thought. He made his way to his door, and opened it, then froze.

Someone was in his house. Someone dracon. His body froze, and he dropped his fish bag into the sand. He couldn't see his other hand, but he knew by the warm feeling that the years of Red Discipline training had paid off. He was holding a fireball there, ready to fly at a split second's notice.

" . . . Don't do anything rash," Kutur said, slowly squeezing the words through his contracted throat. " . . . Don't make me do something we will both regret."