[ where's the universe where he can sit around with his books and make bitchy remarks to passerby while other people attend him? honestly he'd like to go back to That.

at least they have this breeding thing in common. ]

I've been told by the strong Vaskian women of our neighboring kingdom that my cow eyes and particular stature would breed weak stock. [ if pretty ones. unfortunately, they do not value pretty ones. fortunately, he doesn't wish to breed at all. ] I am not made in miniature. They are just large women.

So necromancers are highly coveted people. They are like nobles, except they have actual value.

[ what if he likes war? the answer: yes. anyway. ]

It would be a boon if she were here. [ just to restate this very obvious fact, as he cuts down another dead dog. perhaps she has heard this many times, the lauding of necromancers over her own kind. it's something he's intimately familiar with in his own way, never able to live up to auguste's splendor — laurent has always been less liked, more petty, less honorable. auguste had simply been good in a way that laurent is not. and auguste had loved him, despite his sharp edges, in a way that no one else ever has.

harrowhark nonagesimus. laurent doubts she is as bad as gideon says.

he can just about make out the archway in the shroud of the mist, and he fleetingly wishes for a horse. he steps beside gideon. ]

The dogs are worse in the plaza. Run with me, and lead the way to your lodgings. If your speed is as good as your swordsmanship, we can outrun them.