Kidney Pies | Tom & Diccon
“Ah, that will keep you,” He said, trying not to roll his eyes as he thought about their spoiled little lord. “Hopefully he wasn’t in one of his moods tonight?” He asked. Not that Rowlin was ever not in a mood. Just some were worse than others.
Tom led Diccon back into the kitchens. “When he turns eighteen,” Tom began, placing a kidney pie on the table in front of him, “I’m going to pack my bags and go as far south as I can get. At least as far south as the western borders. The warden there is but a child still. Can’t be half as bad as this one,” He said, smirking. He was only teasing, of course. He could never leave the North. This was his home. And if the warden in the west was a child, he’d have other men ruling for him and who is to say that the situation wasn’t as bad there as it was here?
He shook his head, “But then, trying to find a good leader in Aragoth is about as easy as finding a dragon egg. Perhaps I’d better stay right here with the rest of you.”
“Aye, it will,” Diccon agreed, shaking his head. “He was no more ornery than usual--a couple jabs at my low status and the fact that I make my living shoveling the shit his horses make off the floor. What I would like to say to that lordling if it wouldn’t cost me my head.”
Diccon followed behind Tom, laughing a little. “There’s no safe place in Aragoth for someone like you or I, who are so close to the lords and ladies,” he replied, a hint of sadness to his voice. “Though Lady Alia seems to have just as little protection as we do, poor girl. Her only hope for happiness and safety is to marry and get far away from here.” He placed a hand on Tom’s shoulder, giving it a playful squeeze. “And what would we do without you here with us, Tom?” he asked, grinning at his friend.












