"All men who will not fight for Lord Euramar must forfeit themselves and serve." He recited carefully, staring hard at a patch of canvas to avoid Symon's eyes. "To do otherwise would be to forfeit the conditions on which I was brought into this world." He thought about how close he'd been to the brink of death, then, and whatever breed of powerful magic had revived him.

"But... technically," the slave exhaled, bowing his head, a calculated flicker of tongue against lips as he mused carefully aloud, "Under his charge, then what if I am little more than unclaimed baggage, left behind?"