Jenny: "I Could Lay My Head On His Feet."

Lucius could not wholly help the rush of emotion in his chest as he watched Ambrosius' face when the knife, retrieved, was held out to him. He felt like a boy again, almost entirely given over to that initial fascination of this man who walked among the Great Ones and claimed the Isle of the Brave as his own, who was like justice and peace come together. He knew he was being as sentimental as the Guttersnipe, but he did not try to stop himself. And when the man reached out one big war-scarred hand and took the knife, he clenched his own hands, wanting to tell someone - anyone - "I told you so. Did I not always tell you so? This man is a man worth following."

Ambrosius contemplated the utilitarian weapon in his hand, then spun it over and held it back out, hilt to the Irish bull. "You will be needing this," was all he said.

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