Buorlan took a deep breath. Was he really going to poison his mentor? He hardened his heart. For his mother. For Marcs. For change.
The fire behind him, popped and crackled as it chased away the evening's chill. Silnan lounged on one of the sofas in his office, wrapped in a silk robe, with his white shirt poking out the top, the first two buttons left open. A small pair of wire rimmed spectacles sat on the end of his nose as he inspected the papers in his hands.
Buorlan pulled the wax seal off of a tainted bottle of bourbon. His hands shook as he poured the glass. Every other attempt to change his mentor's mind had failed. He remembered sitting in this office learning and debating politics. Silnan was always kind as he corrected Bourlan's mistakes. The image of his mother's soft smile and Marcs' warm embrace chased away the sweet memories.
Buorlan walked over to Silnan and offered him the glass. Silnan looked over his spectacles. He took a sip and turned back to the documents in hand. Buorlan walked back to the side table and poured a smaller glass for himself, before taking a seat opposite.
"You have done well, Buorlan." Silnan said.
"It's all thanks to your teaching over the years, Silnan. The royal treasury is well stocked till the spring harvest taxes. A generous donation to the church alongside the profits release and a hanging to improve public sentiment. Dare I say we made out like dragons."
Buorlan raised his glass over the table, hiding the small amount of liquid with his hand. Silnan responded in kind, clinking their glasses together. They shared a smile and lifted their glasses to their lips. Silnan took a long sip enjoying the smoky flavour as it washed its way down. Buorlan raised the cup to his lips but never let a drop touch his lips.