Jarl Soren was not happy to see Bryn again. He had hoped someone would have killed the man. Often he fantasized of a giant punting Bryn with a huge foot, sending him splattering into the mountain side. But no luck— Bryn walked through the door with a smile on his face that told the Jarl he knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Jarl Soren, you seem in good health."

"You as well."

"I've just spoken to the architect and progress on my estate is moving along nicely. I see the servants I had sent arrived safely."

The Jarl resisted the urge to comment on his servants. Every week it had seemed some ragged person from Stars knows where had shown up on his doorstep with a scrawled note from Bryn demanding that the Jarl see them outfitted and put to work. The only one the Jarl had been grateful to see was Ulris who had taken that assigning into his own capable hands.

"Yes, well, you chose a good steward."

"It seems I did. I wanted to talk to you about my stay."

"Until spring, correct?" the Jarl said a bit too quickly.

"That was the plan, but now it looks like I will have to extend it."

"Oh?" the Jarl asked, too afraid of saying more. Bryn smiled again.

"Yes, about nine months."

Jarl Soren’s eyebrows shot up. No, it couldn't be. "May I ask the reason for this change?"

"I would have thought that was clear. My woman is pregnant."

The Jarl went pale. The idea of Bryn procreating and unleashing his spawn on the world made him feel sick. And if he had children here, would he be back more often? Would he expect more favors? Would the children upset Bryn and set him on a tirade? A million questions whirled through the Jarl's brain but to his credit he managed to choke out, "Congratulations."

With a sign from his steward, the Jarl remembered the reason he had agreed to speak with Bryn. He gave a small cough. "As per our...agreement...I am obliged to tell you that an official from the king visited not a month ago. He saw the construction and asked questions. I told him we had a rich new citizen and he accepted that, though I expect he will want to meet you next time he is in the area."

Bryn's face darkened and the Jarl tried not to let his joy show. He didn't want Bryn to think he'd set him up. The Jarl hadn't, he couldn't afford to betray Bryn directly, even if he did pray for his untimely demise.

"And when will this next visit be?" Bryn growled.

The Jarl gestured to his steward who bowed to Bryn and said, "Our best estimate would be four or five months."

"His name?"

"Pardon?"

Bryn turned to the steward, his grey eyes locking the poor man in place. "The official's name."

"Oh, of course. Tyrik Hurson, a distant relative of the king and one of his army captains."

Bryn nodded, turned, and left without a word.