[Salone]

Isaac, or "Darby" as he was going to go by for the time being, produced a second snack candy from a pocket and unwrapped it. He took small bites out of it as he spoke.

"The nail that sticks out gets hammered, mate. And if this war is going to be up to snuff there's a lot of nails with names sticking out and everyone involved is carrying a rather large hammer."

He took another bite from his candy. It was fattening, but that was fine. He needed the fat. He had been putting some of it away, but he would most likely need it by the night's end. If he survived the night's end.

"I fancy myself a daft old codger, and if all goes well they will too. I don't know about these other so called 'Masters', but I don't plan on cackling and pointless exposition and open fighting. That's a young man's game and frankly I don't have the grit for it. No."

He sat down at the edge of the bed, removing his shoes for a battered but serviceable pair of boots. They looked as if they had been everywhere. He continued to speak as he tied them up.

"Sod the other servants. I'm not worried about them. You shan't either unless they just really get in our way. But I think we shall be gunning for these silly 'Masters' instead.

He finished tying his boots, standing up and giving Atilla the classic shit-eating grin that all old men adopted from time to time.

"'sides, why fight the fangs and get bit when you can just cut the head from the snake, am I right?"