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“Con artists. Fraudsters, confidence men. They will be the core.” Salaf nods at you, and Alys does not object. An army of chameleons at your whim, men who can wear any skin. This will be the heart of the Order's network.
“It will be seen to, Captain-General. But perhaps you should work out a recruitment strategy?” He only raises an eyebrow but his skepticism is apparent.
Alys clears her throat. “Obviously we will check the jails and prisons first. We can bind them to us with amnesty. After that, we just funnel whoever gets caught into the system. I imagine there are enough desperate or greedy scum around to fill our rosters.”
You grunt. “And we can trust these recruits?”
She shakes her head. “Of course not, but if we give them a purpose, run them like dogs, and forgive their prior crimes, I feel they will be very willing agents.”
You think for a moment. “Perhaps they will come to like a steady paycheck in lieu of intermittent robberies. You have my permission.”
Alys leaves to carry out your order with a slight bow. You both must maintain some formality after all.
“So, the Lady is your second?” Salaf says. You do not doubt for a second that's not the truth of what he thinks.
“My betrothed.”
“Very interesting, Captain-General. I must say. Sublime taste, I considered it myself.” He sneers, like he is sharing a bawdy joke.
You scowl. “Must you be disgusting as well as blunt? I pay your fee. Lust after Alys in my presence again and I will slay you myself. I am sure Brassus would like the double pay.”
He theatrically scoffs. “I meant no offense, Captain-General! She is beautiful, what man would not covet her?” You recall that Salaf was the first tutor Alys was sent to, and she was merely eighteen at the time. He must have been almost sixty. Bile rises but you force it down.
“Watch yourself. I am a generous man, but I am not so magnanimous as to forgive such slights. It is not the way of the north.”
Another insincere, obsequious display. A theatrical bow of subservience. You are sure now. Salaf is a vile miscreant. Only a beast is so tethered to earthly desire even at his advanced age. But you paid the man, and he will not die until he has done his service to you. After that, well, that's another bridge to cross. Your tower is very tall, a thought that comes to you unbidden.
“Don't you have initiates to train, Salaf?” You don't bother hiding your annoyance.
“Of course, Captain-General, I will get to it.” This time his submissive stance seems less an act. He marches off. Friedrich, calmed and sword sheathed, approaches.
