By the Fire Place

He shut the door behind him as Blight glided in to her usual place by the hearth, on the arm of the only chair in the only room of the Bronn's abode. The sofa was a mighty oak, built by Bronn himself, and was the only piece of furniture, other than the bed, the cupboard and the table on the other side. The arm of the chair was ragged and scratched from years of perching by Blight, but the other arm lay there unscathed, and smooth. 
Bronn sat down, making himself comfortable. The window was wide open, and the fire place lay unused. It was a bright summer afternoon, and a hot one at that. The cold had never bothered the young ogre, but the heat did. Yes, he could live with it fine, but he had a strong dislike for the sun's fury. 

'So, who is it from?' Bronn asked pensively 'Hesper. The lord himself.' Blight croaked. 
Bronn froze for a moment. The Lord had never asked for him, personally. It was always some acquaintance of his. He still remembered that night, many long years ago, when the Lord had ordered the massacre of the whole village of ogres and trolls. His family, his friends, and everyone he'd known. All gone, except for him. Bronn had never known why the warlock left him alive. He'd cursed him with a rotting heart, a heart that burned inside of his own body and left him writhing in pain for days together from time to time. He felt it grow heavier inside of him.
'He...the Lord has never asked for my sword. Why does he need it now? There are dozens of other mercenaries, better archers, assassins with unparalleled skill, magicians and myrmidons most of them human and unwavering. So many warriors all under his command. And he needs an ogre sell sword?' 
'I have no idea why, but I'm sure he has his reasons. And I hear He pays well. You better answer his summon.' The raven replied. Already there was an atmosphere of fear that lingered in the room. Something neither of the two had known for quite a while. 'To hell with his coins!' Bronn spat. 'He very well knows that I've got no choice.' 
'Calm down Bronn. Let's just look into it, alright?' said Blight in a soothing monotonic caw. He jumped up onto Bronn's broad shoulder, spread out his wings and flapped it in front of his face, like he always did when Bronn was indecisive. It helped the big guy to think properly. 
The wind outside rattled the window, and shook him up. 'Guess it's time to go, huh? He'll be in the City?' asked Bronn. 'The other side of it. He resides at the grey castle, with the eunuchs.' said Blight thoughtfully. 'Must be a very proud person', mumbled Bronn, as he got up. 'What did you think?' said a sarcastic Blight. 

The duo walked to the front door (there was only one door) and opened it to leave. And right there in front of them stood a little man, with a large palm stretched out. And on the palm sat a silver scroll.

The End

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