"How did your first acquaintance with that widow go? We have a great deal riding on this, you know." Julian's voice echoed through the tent, thin and dry as old vellum. He didn't bother turning around; his back remained hunched over a sprawl of maps and ledgers, the candlelight casting his hooked shadow against the canvas like a predatory bird.
"If I were anyone else, things might have turned bloody, do I need to remind you that our presence here is to be unkown of?The last thing we need is you calling my name for the whole camp." Tiberius remarked, his voice steady despite the prickle of unease at his nape.
"There are only a few souls permitted to bother me personally, Tiberius. I would recognize your light, almost girlish step in a crowded cathedral." Julian finally shifted, though only to dip his quill.
Tiberius ignored the barb.
He did not have girlish steps.
