Oreus looked out over the great hall of the Fianna below him from his living quarters. Hundreds of his fighters were practicing, chattering, and loitering below.
His brow furrowed as he focused on Timothy, who was chatting with Audrey and Olsen.
The living quarters were large. A double bed with numerous pillows and screens on each of the walls linked to cameras throughout the compound and beyond.
A buzzer goes off.
“Sean, Answeer caall,” Oreus said.
A holographic image of a middle-aged woman appeared. She was sitting in battle chair, with guns on either side. Her long, black hair covered only her larger-than-normal forehead,
“Whaat doo I oowe the pleaasuure, Brigid?”
She smiled. “You know why I’m calling. I thought you would have been there. I heard some of your warriors even called out your name as they were bludgeoned to death.
Oreus grimaced. “Thaat’s oone thiing yyou weere alwaays good aat. Geetting uunder myy skiin.
Brigid laughed. “You do get so fond of your little pets. Remember, they either die in our service or that of the Emperor. Think of them as nothing more than cannon fodder. It helps keep things in perspective. Otherwise, talking to you will become such a downer.”
Mark's Writing Corner 