In Krugenheim Matthew took Thomas to the fletcher's for supplies. Looking very much like a monk returning to the Great Cathedral of Sigmar after a pilgrimage, the eyes of the hunting master filled with tears of joy. He treated every piece of craftmanship as either a rare relic or an old friend.
- You knew I needed one more war, Thomas said, slowly caressing a hunting arrow.
Matthew smiled.
- And the blacksmith. What did you give him?
The seneschal looked somewhat affronted.
- Don't give me that look, old friend. I know you too well. You're still doing their dirty work, and you'd never offer anyone gold.
- Very few people really want gold, Matthew said in a soft voice.
Thomas looked amused and Matthew sighed.
- Purpose. I gave him a purpose.
- That easy, huh? Thomas chuckled, but halted seeing Matthew's dejected looks.
- They need someone to follow, Thomas, the seneschal said.
- And so they follow you, old friend. Even I, even though I know your trade. I followed you when you were the Mouth of the his father, I follow you now. I've always wondered how you got out, though. But a man who can talk people into war, can probably talk himself out of one.
- I struck a deal with the Lord. And it took his son to dishonour it.
They both laughed. Thomas shook his head.
- Trust the beggar, you said. Trust the beggar, never the Noble. That was the first lesson you taught me.
Matthew sighed.
- And I was right, wasn't I? The beggar, the whore, the thief on the scaffold. They may not speak the truth, but their lies hurt no man.
- Matthew the Mouth, Thomas muttered.
- Thomas the Falconeer, Matthew replied.
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