Tharon looked at the map. He felt the healers hand on his shoulders. He worked efficiently, which is exactly what Tharon expected from him.
Tharon let out a sigh as the healers hands found a particular painfull spot, but remained otherwise silent as he studied the map.
If they came in through the southern border there would be little he could do to avoid battle. If they didn’t, he had no idea what they were planning.
Tharon sighed annoyed and pushed the map away from himself. He watched as one of the corners came out under the dagger and curled in on itself awkwardly as the others stayed in place.
Tharon stood, shaking the healer’s hand off.
“Master?” the healer asked confused. Tharon did not find it necessary to answer, instead he simply put his shirt back on.
“Leave me.” The healer looked at him for a moment before shrugging a ‘suit yourself’ and walking out the door. Tharon locked it after him and hung a shirt over the door handle to cover the keyhole should someone try to look through it.
There were rumors that he never slept. Something Tharon was perfectly happy with, as he had always tried not to let anyone know of his sleeping habbits. He wasn’t too keen on the though of going to sleep and waking with a dagger in your chest. Or well, not waking.
Pulling the blanket to the side, Tharon laid down and closed his eyes. The sharp chill in the air signaled winter’s coming and but then the safe house might not be enough for his men and their families. It was not large enough to fit everyone, and the sheds they build to sleep in would not be enough to hold out the cold. So they’d have to move.
Tharon shook his head. He didn’t want to think about anything but sleeping so he could clear his head from the buzzing alcohol. He concentrated on his breathing for a while before finally sinking into sleep’s embrace.