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Noah was bored, and when he was bored, he got restless, and when he was restless, he got dumb.
His mother was Brenna the Bloody, a warrior queen whose vassal lords controlled more territory than Noah could think what to do with. This place, theoretically her palace, was really more of a village, a cluster of wooden buildings that would take fifteen minutes to walk across even if you didn't stop anywhere. And yet Noah knew it all like the back of his hand, knew everyone in it who was remotely interesting, and since he would make a tempting target for his mother's many enemies, he wasn't allowed to leave it unsupervised. It didn't matter that he was a man grown and skilled with a bow and a throwing axe. Apparently, he wasn't trusted to take care of himself.
Brenna had returned from campaign a few weeks prior, which was briefly exciting, but Noah had quickly decided that she hadn't brought anything interesting back with her. Now, though, he was wondering if that assessment had been wrong. The slaves she'd brought seemed...different from the other slaves. Surely many of them had been enemy warriors like this -- captured warrior-slave had described half the people charged with raising Noah whenever his mother had been gone in his childhood -- but few had ever seemed so wild, like these. It was...intriguing.
One in particular had caught Noah's eye, so that night, he sent someone to bring that slave to him and then swore his guards to secrecy about anything they might hear inside his chambers. When the man arrived, Noah was sitting in a chair next to the fire with a huge old hunting dog asleep at his feet.
His mother was Brenna the Bloody, a warrior queen whose vassal lords controlled more territory than Noah could think what to do with. This place, theoretically her palace, was really more of a village, a cluster of wooden buildings that would take fifteen minutes to walk across even if you didn't stop anywhere. And yet Noah knew it all like the back of his hand, knew everyone in it who was remotely interesting, and since he would make a tempting target for his mother's many enemies, he wasn't allowed to leave it unsupervised. It didn't matter that he was a man grown and skilled with a bow and a throwing axe. Apparently, he wasn't trusted to take care of himself.
Brenna had returned from campaign a few weeks prior, which was briefly exciting, but Noah had quickly decided that she hadn't brought anything interesting back with her. Now, though, he was wondering if that assessment had been wrong. The slaves she'd brought seemed...different from the other slaves. Surely many of them had been enemy warriors like this -- captured warrior-slave had described half the people charged with raising Noah whenever his mother had been gone in his childhood -- but few had ever seemed so wild, like these. It was...intriguing.
One in particular had caught Noah's eye, so that night, he sent someone to bring that slave to him and then swore his guards to secrecy about anything they might hear inside his chambers. When the man arrived, Noah was sitting in a chair next to the fire with a huge old hunting dog asleep at his feet.