by Hydrargentium

“So now we wait?”

Accordion nodded. “Now we wait.”

Jester had been against this from the beginning. To his mind, baiting an enemy as powerful as Imperion, and then standing around waiting, was next to suicidal. Especially given what Imperion tended to do to people who “displeased” him.

“You know he’ll rip our arms off when he catches us, right?”

“I’m not worried about that.”

Jester flipped a half-dozen objects into the air, juggling them nervously: three multi-coloured balls, a thin knife, a thing like a children’s “jack” only bigger and spikier, and a very small chainsaw. Though it wasn’t that he was nervous juggling them, just that he was nervous, so he juggled.

“Of course you’re not worried. You can repair your arms, or build new ones.”

Accordion made a sound like an airy harmonica.

“That’s not why I’m not worried.”