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"So wait, you and Varron snuck into the castle under barrels?"

The two looked at Cyrin, before looking at each other, laughing in sync. "No, no, Cyrin. That's just what the commonfolk like to say." Dessar said, speaking up and waving a hand in a dismissive gesture. Varron grinned at him, speaking as well. "The truth of the matter is that we used the dust storm. Father, myself, and a squad of troops all held a tan quilt over our heads and walked up to the walls." Cyrin leaned in as his brother spoke, listening intently, Dessar chuckling to himself as the experience was recalled.

"Then what?" Cyrin asked as Varron took a draft of ale. The inn was mostly silent save the boisterous music and the occasional belch, many of the patrons leaned in to listen to the tale. Varron set his mug down, continuing. "So, we knock out two of Asperro's guards and drag them over. We strip them completely naked, and lay them down on top of the quilt infront of the keep, embracing each other." Cyrin guffawed, many of the fellow patrons laughing as well as the noble told the tale. Dessar continued in Varron's stead as he took another drink. 

"That was when I called out: "Oi! Trouble at th' front gates!", loud as I could." He told with a chuckle as a tempting wench bumped against his chair, he reached behind to give her rear as smack as the aged warrior went on. "So, what must have been half the garrison all scrambles out to the front gate. They exit to look at the two, they're all either laughin' their ass off or pissed as hell. We creep in while they're all talkin', and get into the storehouse. The barrels were there, but the Asperro quartermaster was too, so we had to gag him and stuff him into one of the barrels to take with us." Another fair bout of laughter rang out, Cyrin saying. "That must've been heavy."

He nodded in assent, taking a quick drink, waving towards Varron to continue. The first son chuckled, rubbing a hand over his beard as he took the reins. "So, the whole lot of us were getting ready to leave. We had the three barrels of fish, one of them had the quartermaster in it, but not before father moves over to their ale keg." Cyrin groans, and Varron continues with a grin. "He props it up and opens the top, taking his sweet time pissing in their ale before he seals it again and leaves it there." There was another short bout of laughter, Dessar grunting in a satisfied manner.

"Glad I did too, I bet they drank that piss-ale for a week." He chuckled a bit, cracking his neck. "Anyhow, as we made our way out the guards were out there kickin' the piss out of those two we had left there as a distraction. It was only when they heard us laughin' our asses off that they noticed we were runnin' off with their barrels of fish. Much too late, ey?" He asked, looking to Varron, who nodded with an ale-stained smile. "So you won the bet, then?" Cyrin asked, folding his arms together. "Oh, damn right we did. Now Duke Asperro has to pay for the drinks whenever we visit Cor." He answered with a light-hearted chuckle. 

Cyrin rubbed his chin with a bright smile of his own. "Tell us about the time you and Mother hid from the Paragon rebels in that brothel." He requested, many patrons nodding in agreement.

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