Right-hand Man

He's a good lad, even if he's not what you'd call a boy. A good lord, to all the thousand pigeons of his domains. He dreams of them -- the ruins, dark with things no proper Quinalt would admit to naming -- or things as dark, from the way he tosses in his sleep.

All he needs is someone to hold him close, poor lad who was never a boy, and kiss his fevered brow. Mauryl was no nursemaid, whatever skills he had, and the lad needs comforting in his sleep. Uwen is no wizard, commanding dreams, but he can do this.

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