Lion Head Mesa sackcloth

‘Why do you ask me so many things, hired fang?’

Arsénio, his correction came before she could finish her query, but he did not stop her from carrying on further. The misthofóros listened to every word, every shift in her tone, until she had ceased speaking and stood bristled before him. He rather liked the spirit that rested beneath her demure surface. Whatever duties had bound her, he did not truthfully care all that much.

Knowing well what his next inquiry might do, Arsenio drew his chin upward and pointed his ears.

You stay by her side, but so do I, eh? What does the queen need of you? Do you tend to her wants? You are there to please the woman Satsu in a way the Pharaoh cannot? The mercenary could not help but to laugh as he had his slew of inquiries to the autumn maid.

You are not a fýlakas, not with a body like that. The Greek sneered. So what did she really do for the lady queen?