A Dance Of Crowns & Thrones | Book I

Chapter 37 | Portland's Base

"The storms hit harder than expected. We'll bunker down here till it passes," sitting in the Portland's Headmaster's office. Matthew had been on speaker as the fiery red-haired man they referred to as Spear sat across from him. The mischievous man had been smirking at how Cid had gotten his back up about Matthew having to extend their stay further.

"I'll organize to have the Zulu teams, two and three, extract the civilians from the previous bases. Then Lana Ace will depart in the morning. If the electrical storm continues, they can continue to Baulkham instead of your team."

"You know, Cid," Spear leaned across the desk, speaking directly into the communication device to the older man, staring at Matthew, who smiled, shaking his head, at what Spear was trying to do.

"This storm is predicted to become a category two at the moment, which usually means a twenty-four-hour window of no-fly protocols."

'Bullshit,' Matthew mouthed to the man mocking.

Though both men had been the same age, Spear commanded the outpost base to escape any further responsibilities. The tiny base of fifteen was exactly all he wanted to look after, leaving him a lot of time on his hands and a ton of disruption that could be achieved.

"I'll be in contact late tomorrow with an update on the skies," Cid commanded, his mood clearly sour as he disconnected the call, causing both men to glare at the device and then at each other.

"He's crankier than usual."

"No kidding," Matthew said, reaching across to grab the communication device. "How long is this storm meant to last anyway?"

"I'm not joking," Spear shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Fifteen hours. We had one last month that lasted over seventy-two hours. It's a small base, and then some foolish person failed to order the food supplies on time, missing the deadline. 'Pissed' was an understatement during those few days."

"Taking a wild guess that your brother is to blame for that. Why you put him in charge of the runs is beyond me." Matthew scoffed. 

Spear arched an eyebrow and grinned at the man he had known for quite some years. "Why do you think I haven't reported any deaths on the base?" 

Matthew watched Spear lean into the chair, further feet propped up on his desk, eyeing him out as a plague of a thought consumed him.

"Say it," Matthew grinned.

"I was thinking as I naturally do best," the fiery red-haired waved his head forth, "we could disappear down to Aurela's."

Matthew causally now leaned into his chair, a broad, playful grin appeared, for there were moments that flashed before him of the nosedive of a bar, and while there were times that days melted together when he came here. Right now, there was something far more intriguing on his mind, and he wasn't going to stop until he had her begging for him.

If that was his only goal in his personal life at the moment, he was fine with that.

The chase was always more fun than the capture.

"Shouldn't."

"Uh, why not?" Spears's face scrunched.

The dark-blonde-haired cocky commander shook his head to his mate of the Portland base.

"I have four soldiers here and a certain servant."

"They can take care of themselves,"

"They could, sure- but."

"Ah," Spear suddenly pieced the puzzle together, "you're trying to get with that servant you brought with you."

Folding his arms, he winked. Spear knew precisely where his head and not the one between his shoulders had been.