[h2] Kreznik Broekke[/h2] 
[@Dyelli Beybi]

A slight snort of amusement.
"Claiming a throne after climbing a mound of corpses just to burn it down for love." The spymaster wore a rare teasing grin. "I'm sure I read about some theatre like that." 

Kreznik gave a roll of his shoulders; the uncomfortable shrug of someone readjusting weight. He wore the darkened cloth and leather of his now liquidated order. A calvary uniform having been an unsuitable garment for scaling walls and ledges. Kreznik could recall wearing the uniform had once felt so natural; like a second skin festooned with pouches and sheathes for the tools of his trade. Now it felt unnatural; an artifact of a life that felt like a dream with each passing day. 

An occurrence thanks in no part to the woman before him. He shook off the discomfort and odd thoughts and refocused. 

"Do you have any more need for your spymaster this evening?" A joking manner in his tone but the words were deadly serious. Though he couldn't fathom what she would need; it never hurt to ask. Especially, if she was up to a scheme. 

Or if she wanted to continue her usual nightly "pursuits". Though Kreznik could hardly complain of those.