As the drinks flowed, the jokes continued and the stories grew louder and more ridiculous. And as Thannon told tales of the great battle for the city, he said something Tarmon wished he hadn’t.
“And now this Draleid prances around like he owns the place, after we’ve bled for months to keep the Uraks from slaughtering us all.”
The other voices grew quiet, and Erdhardt flashed Tarmon a look.
“What?” Thannon asked, downing the remnants of his cup, looking at the faces around him. “He flies in on his big fucking dragon and expects us all to bow and nod and act as though he’s actually done something. He wasn’t here. He didn’t stand by me, or you,” he said, pointing his cup at Nayce. “I’m just sick of all these kings, and elders, and Draleid, and the fucking Lorians… They just do whatever they please, tell us to go die in some battle or leave us to starve like that little fuckwit Daymon.”
Tarmon clenched his jaw, teeth grinding. “Thannon, that’s enough.”
“Arthur was a man I could follow. But that Daymon was a self-righteous prick. And what made him more than we were? Blood? A trinket on his head? This Draleid is no different. How is he anything better than the ones who burned this world in the first place? He doesn’t give a shit about us.”
Tarmon stepped forwards, but before he could do anything, Dann came striding from nowhere and slammed his fist into Thannon’s face.
Thannon stumbled and fell, but Dann was on him in a heartbeat.
“Say that again,” Dann roared, grabbing Thannon’s collar. He punched the man in the face a second time, Thannon’s cheek bursting. “Say another fucking word like that about Calen again and I will fucking gut you like a fish.” Dann grabbed Thannon’s shirt with both fists, dragging the man’s face closer to his. “You’re not fit to lick the shit from his boots. You know nothing.”
Dann let Thannon drop back to the dirt, then stormed off into the crowd, swatting away Erdhardt’s hand.
Thannon scrambled back to his feet, raging, fury in his eyes.
“Stand down,” Tarmon said, grabbing Thannon by the shoulders.
“Stand down? Lord Captain, I’m going to fucking?—”
“I amnotyour Lord Captain any longer. Stand down, Thannon, or I will put you down.”
Thannon glared at Tarmon, then shoved him and started after Dann. Tarmon grabbed the man’s shirt, spun him, and drove a fist into his face.
The former Kingsguard hit the ground like a sack of stones.
“Did you have to hit him so hard?” Erdhardt asked, standing next to Tarmon.
“I don’t hit soft.” Tarmon crouched down over Thannon, gently slapping the man’s cheek until Thannon looked at him. “You’ve had too much ale. You said things a Kingsguard should be ashamed to say. Get up, go to bed, and tomorrow we’ll forget it all.”
“I’m not a Kingsguard anymore,” Thannon said, spitting blood into the dirt, his words slurred.
“No, but you’re better than this. Are we agreed?”
Thannon looked at the ground, then back to Tarmon, nodding.
Tarmon lifted his friend to his feet and passed him off to two of the others to take to bed.
“Forgive him, Lord Captain,” Origal said. “King Daymon did a lot of harm.”
“I am not your Lord Captain, and I know what Daymon did. He was only a boy. He should never have had to wear that crown alone.”
Origal nodded, and Tarmon clapped him on the shoulder.
“I’m not your Lord Captain, Origal, but I am always your brother.”
“Always,” Origal agreed.
“I thought he was your friend,” Erdhardt said, gesturing after Thannon.
“He is.”
“If you do that to your friends, what do you do to your enemies?”