#notapackmule

88. “Surprises aren’t my thing.”

31. “I can, I shall and I will.”

"These Legionnaires threaten to kill the farmers nearby, and if we don't at least scare them off, they will live up to their promise," the Jarl responded with an impatient growl. It had not been his choice to hire people like Marcurio to take care of problems like these, but with the Empire striking in the south, he was short on soldiers. If not for the fact that the mage, regardless of his attitude, had been particularly helpful in the past, Ulfric would not have hesitated to replace the man. "It's bad enough in itself that I have to pay layabouts like yourself to solve this problem, now /go/ or I'll find someone else to do this job!"

The Jarl was very close to punching the other's face in return -- so close, even, that if Marcurio had stepped away just a second later, Ulfric would have lost his temper completely. For now, he remained lingering on the edge of keeping and losing his temper, stood frozen on the spot, his knuckles white from the pressure put on his fists. When he spoke -- growled, rather -- his angry words towards the mage, the Palace shook lightly with the force of Ulfric's Voice boiling in his throat. "Don't come back!"

"By the Nine, mage, I've told you before and I will tell you again: don't harass the guards!"

Struck completely off-guard, an audible /ooph!/ escaped the Jarl as soon as the mage's fist hit his face. He defensively and instinctively took a few steps back, his hand instantly shooting up to his face to touch the spot that hurt most. The Jarl growled, offended and surprised, as he realised what had just happened. The look in his eyes became one of rage, and the one hand that was not tending to the sore spot on his face clenched into a tight fist, indicating his anger as well. Then he snarled, voice raised: "YOU DARE?!"

"Bed? No-- what did you call me?!" the Jarl grumbled displeased. The frown of confusion was quick to turn into a frown of offense and disagreement, which -- for a change -- did not lead to a shouty and angry Jarl. A huff followed instead, and he took another gulp from his welcoming cup of Nord Mead. He was used to being insulted by Marcurio by now. He took little to no offense from his words. "It is only early. I'm not a child."