Page 21 of Highland Lords of War & Thunder: The Prequel

Legion filled in the pause. “But?”

“He's decided being useful gives him leave to do whatever he pleases. He drinks too much, starts fights with the other men, frightens the servants, and challenges anyone who objects. He's large enough that most think twice before crossing him.”

“And you allow it?”

The chieftain's expression hardened. “Not anymore.”

Legion understood. “You want me to kill him?”

“Nay,” the chieftain said, shaking his head. ”I told you I’d rather not lose him. I want you to teach him something my men haven't managed to.”

“And what is that?” Legion asked, though he knew.

“That being the strongest man in the room doesn't give him the right to torment everyone else in it.”

An easy task for Legion, though he asked, “What do I get in exchange?”

“A good meal, as much ale as you want, and a bed for the night.”

“A private chamber,” Legion said, having no intention of spending the night surrounded by snoring warriors.

The chieftain's brow rose and he thought briefly before answering, “Done.”

The Great Hall was crowded when Legion entered with the chieftain. Men filled the tables, ale flowed freely, and servants moved quickly among them.

Legion didn't need the chieftain to point out his problem. The man was easy enough to find. He stood beside one of the tables, broad through the shoulders and thick with muscle, laughing while another warrior wiped blood from his mouth.

The injured man didn't appear amused. Neither did the men around him.

Legion took an empty place at a nearby table.

A servant lass approached carrying a pitcher.

She was plainly dressed, skirt, blouse, apron, her dark hair pulled away from her face, a pretty one, in a braid, and she moved with the practiced efficiency of someone accustomed to serving a crowded hall.

She filled Legion's cup. “Your meal will be brought shortly.”

Legion nodded. “My thanks.”

Her eyes lifted to his.

Only briefly. But long enough for Legion to catch the surprise there before she lowered them again. Perhaps men didn't often thank her.

“Senna!”

The lass cringed before turning and hurrying off.

Legion watched her approach the large warrior.

“More ale.”

She reached for his cup, and he quickly seized her wrist instead. She went still.

“You've been avoiding my table.”

“Nay,” she said hastily.

“Are you calling me a liar?” he snapped close to her face.