Hmph. Mer could’ve very easily had a moment over the fact there was more bureaucracy in the process of getting help from mages. He was sure there’d be yet another step after submitting a petition to the First Warden, if he had been offered further finances by his mother perhaps the situation would be a lot easier to navigate. Either way this Hakon fellow didn’t exactly strike Mer as someone he could buy off, nor did his position in Sunderland offer him much grace. Alas, all his tricks were for nothing.
Without measurable progress on the matter of the Mythical Beast, to which he was rather sick of droning on about, Mer made the silent decision to drop the topic in favour of perhaps bonding an alliance with the mages of Vesterhal through other means. A show of strength perhaps! Yes… It was going to make things harder sure, but it seemed like a path of less resistance than what he felt he had been facing. “There is little point in deserting the training grounds only to return,” Mer mused, though did not come to pass comment on the notion of cleaning up afterwards. That was the first time Mer began to look upon Hakon a little differently. A large man of seemingly ample strength expressed an interest in cleaning up with the lordling after a sparring session. Mer’s lips offered a large smirk in correlation with his plotting.
“Judge me not for my abilities in the art of hand-to-hand combat. When I would bring it up... My mothers would insist it was unbecoming for someone like myself,” Mer announced, before offering a quick and poorly telegraphed punch for the side of Hakon’s stomach. The lordling fought dirty, throwing the first punch with no indication at all he would do so. For the trickery and downright dirtiness of the seemingly pristine boy, there was a notable lack of force in the punch. It lay a brief mystery as to whether Mer lacked physical strength, or simply meant to pull his punches in such a confrontation. “Entertain me while I await your move, Hakon! Tell me, do you challenge all guests of Vesterhals to sparring matches, or was the notion of facing me in battle something special?” He teased like the larger man was a fish. Mer had spotted the fishy swimming about with the offering of the bathing areas. Mer had cast his line with his comment. All that was left was for the fishy to ensnare its lip in the sharp hook.
