Loki sat across from Sythius, toying idly with the meal that
had been set in front of him, trying to figure out what to do. The giant was
clearly fit for combat; he was one of the strongest, most resilient things the
young pyromancer had ever seen.
But he didn’t seem to understand the finer points of
soldiery.
He was protective, and Loki supposed that was good, but …
“Look, Rookie,” Loki said slowly. “It isn’t … we can’t …
hurt the people,” he said. “We’re soldiers. We protect everyone. Not just the people we like.” He didn’t know if this was
going to work. Sythius was staring blankly at him. He’d already devoured his food. He’d practically inhaled it.
Loki heaved a sigh. Sythius tilted his head, like a confused
hunting dog.
Loki skewered a chunk of roasted pepper, ate it
thoughtfully, toyed with his fork, and wondered if the authority of an officer
was really worth it. Was he ready for this? He knew his way around his own
body, sure enough, and he had the sharpest eyes in the Guard, even at his age.
But did he have the patience to lead?
“Protect … everyone,” Sythius rumbled.
Loki blinked. “Yes.”
“Soldier … protects … everyone.”
Loki nodded. “Yes.”
Sythius put on one of his grins. He nodded, too.
“So … Sythius. Are you going to attack any more civilians?”
“No.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What are you going to do?”
“Protect everyone.”
The slightest of half-smirks rose on Loki’s lips. “Good man,”
he said.
* * *
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