“We haven’t even started on the Church!” Dain exclaimed, clearly getting way too emotionally involved in the topic, his excitement showing in the rising color of his face.
“And the Dragon Knights?” Kre asked, as much to steer the conversation away from a potentially controversial topic as to steer it towards one that he had a vested interest in. “Is it controlled by a single family?”
Dain paused, teetering between wanting to continue his tirade and wanting to stay engaged with the current direction of the conversation. “Not much is known about how that group got its start, even for a devout researcher such as I. All of their records are closely kept within the Citadel and access is strictly limited to those of the knighthood. They make it purposefully difficult to study them.”
“As if they’re hiding something?” Kre asked, genuinely curious and buying a bit into Dain’s conspiratorial fervor. “That kind of organization would have enemies as well then. Enemies that would murder to get their own way.” His thoughts flashed to the professional killing of his friend and wondered who he made angry enough to bring down their ire in the form of an assassination.
“Yes,” Dain nodded, “just so.”
For a minute or so, they sat in silence, each pondering their own thoughts and their implications in their lives. Dain stood and clapped his hands to break them both out of their reverie. “Back to Beleg,” he stated. “You go back out and listen to the other servants. I’ll go and take my meal in kitchen and see what I can glean from observing the two of them through the window.” Without a better idea, Kre agreed, and he returned to the main room.
The boys had mostly settled down, going about their own chores while keeping a side eye out in case either of the two men did something other than devour food and beer. Apparently, that’s all the two of them had been doing since Kre left them about twenty minutes prior. Not a word had been spoken between the two and the only gestures that did not involve dining had been to signal the kitchen staff for more.
He continued to watch the two until they had cleared ten plates between them, with Barry doing his part and catching up to what Beleg had eaten prior to his arrival. The number of mugs of beer that had been quaffed, though, was uncountable. The estimations from the boys varied wildly, from none, because the boy felt that they were only fake drinking, to numbers over sixty.
Initially, small bets had been made as to which man would succumb first to drunkenness, but then other bets took over, such as which man would speak first, which man would lose their many meals first, and which would win their seemingly inevitable fight.
When the plates had been cleared and glasses of a dark, sweet wine replaced the mugs of beer, Barry pulled out a thick pipe of some dark wood and a small pouch. “Do you smoke, Cuthalion?”
Kre heard a few coins change hands behind him even as Beleg shook his head. “Never have, never will. It’s a terrible habit Barry. Gets in your lungs and keeps you from full fighting strength.”
Barry lit his pipe and took a long pull before he answered, “Well, I enjoy it and even if it does bring me down a peg or two, I’ll still kill you. Just might take me a few seconds longer.”