“Something for our Savis friends?” You grin, intrigued at Hail’s unusually coy turn of the conversation. “What’s this new game that I’m guessing they won’t enjoy very much?”

“It will level the playing field, to be sure. But not here.” Hail gives you his smile, the one that looks like a skull warmed up and usually spells a lot of dead slavers in the making. “You’ll like it. Trust me.”

Hail gives you a friendly slap on the shoulder as he departs, disturbingly jovial for a man who has just been recruiting child soldiers. ‘Trust me.’ Loaded words, and you don’t like your immediate gut reaction to do exactly that for the man that’s been kicking slaver ass and taking Imp names by your side for the past half-year. You don’t doubt that whatever Alexander Hail has got cooking up will inevitably mean a world of pain for the Imps. But a world of pain hasn’t stopped the stubborn furry little bastards thus far. And there must be a reason why it’s not coming up at tonight’s war council.

[3/5]