Jaime had done his best to hide the inscription on the handle, and the leather was treated to withstand his fire magic since he could only channel it through metal. While nothing had been wrong with it before, the leather also helped with grip. He’d wrapped the cross guard too, which was unusual unless the sword was badly scratched, and the owner wished to hide it.
The very ends of the crossguard and the pommel showed, and a good eye would notice the immaculate quality, although Jaime’s had no gems gracing the hilt. A man like Aleric would be able to tell a blade’s quality, and he seemed to be testing the weight and feel as he swung at the air. Jaime watched his feet and movement.
Aleric wouldn’t be easily bested in a sword fight, and the children of lords often learn to fight at a young age. Jaime had decent skill, although if life had gone differently, he’d likely be far better.
He held up the sword and looked down the blade which was straight and true. Not many had seen the blade before.
“Have you used it?” He shifted, and strands of lightning flared to life around the blade, showing he too needed something to channel his magic.
“Yeah. A couple of outlaws have tried fucking with me.”
“Where are they?”
“I left their bodies in a ditch. I wasn't going to bury anyone trying to kill me.”
The lightning fizzled out, and a couple of last sparks jumped off as if seeking freedom only to disappear. Aleric checked the other side and studied the hilt and crossguard before his eyes slid to Jaime. “Why is it wrapped?”
“Because it’s old, and the handle is scratched. It looks like shit.”
“The blade is in perfect condition.”
“It was protected by the sheath.” Jaime nudged it. “I don’t know what the last owners did with it. I got it secondhand.”
Aleric held his gaze for a moment like he sensed the lie. Securely holding it, he suddenly swung, and it took every ounce of Jaime’s self-control to not jump back as the edge came for his neck.
Aleric stopped it about a half inch with a smile that wasn’t comforting. “It’s a pity they let the handle get so beat up.”
Jaime burned with anger at the move, which was just a show of power to scare him and hopefully wring a frightened reaction from him. He knew damn well Aleric wouldn’t slaughter him in his sitting room.
“I could kill you,” said Aleric. “Yet you stood there.”
“I don’t think you’d bring me to your sitting room to kill. Get it away from my neck.”
“Why?”
Jaime’s anger went up several more notches. “Did you pull this shit with your wife because you think it makes you look like a big man? Is this why she ran after three days? No wonder you’re stuck with whores. I bet she couldn’t wait to get away from you.”
Aleric’s sword hand twitched as the silence crackled between them. “You know nothing about my wife. Watch your mouth.”
“If you kill me, your Father also isn’t going to like that.”
“I can guarantee you won’t like prison and slavery.”
“Your Father might see my point of view and dislike the fact that his son coerced a guy into being his dick sucker.”
“You still might not win, so I’d keep your mouth shut about this.”
Aleric could say anything in private to his Father and make Jaime look like the bad guy.
He withdrew the sword and gave it a last look before he properly held it out. “Try to keep the blade nice. That’s the most important part.”
Was this a trick? Jaime hastily snatched it. “You’re letting me keep it?”
“I think that’s obvious. Don’t bother planning to stab me in my sleep. I keep my bedroom door locked at night.” Aleric pointed at it and at another to one side. “That’s the privy room. It connects to my bedroom, and the other door inside is kept locked. If you can’t get in, that means I’m using it. If you’re desperate, there’s a privy a floor down and not far from the stairs. Don’t try to enter my bedroom unless you’re invited. You’ll sleep on the couch.”
“I don’t get a proper room? Even a small one?”
“No. Pets often stay in their owner’s quarters.”
