He was more than seven feet tall, and next to Heiler—who was
small even for his age—he seemed even more monstrous; he was too big to be real. Sister Nan-Tamé knew that this
was untrue; he was tall, yes, and he was large. But he was not gigantic to the
point of not being allowed.
The child soldier next to him simply lent an illusion to his
size.
Aric left the scene; Captain Milford arrived. He strode
forward. “Sentinel!”
The boy with fire in his hands snapped to attention and mashed the knuckle of his right thumb against his forehead. “Sir!”
“Tell the commander what you told me.”
Heiler turned his attention to Sister Nan-Tamé. “Commander.
An associate of my mother’s introduced this man to me. She said that he would
be a good fit for our fold.”
Sister Nan-Tamé was well aware that Lady Anna Heiler was much more
well-versed in the arcane arts than most. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Who
is this associate, my son?”
“Lady Sithe Breckenridge.”
The priestess’s gaze snapped wide, and she eyed the big man
with renewed interest. “Personally recommended by a Breckenridge. Quite the
impression you must have made. What is your name?”
The giant frowned. “Sythius,” he growled.
“A hunter from Tera Acerbis,” Heiler said. “He ... doesn’t
talk much.”
“Mm. I see. If Lady Breckenridge thinks he’s fit to wear a
hawk, there must be a reason. What can he do?”
Heiler gestured for Sythius to lean down; the giant dropped
to one knee, and Heiler whispered in his ear.
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