Exton

"Keon… if you're ready, we can get this done."

I'm holding a silver-bladed dagger, one that will cut and heal clean. How the Fae can forge a razor's edge onto silver I have no clue, but it's hard to argue with fact.

Keon pushes his sleeve to the elbow and I make a short shallow cut to the inside of my forearm. The blood wells up and I pass the blade to Keon. His face is a mask as he makes his cut, then we clasp hands tightly, letting the wounds touch, the blood mingling for just a moment, perhaps long enough to count ten in your head. Then, as if on a signal, we loosen our grips and I hand Keon the bandages. I've already set one aside for myself and I stick it in place absently.

"Now we are brothers. An insult to one is an insult to both, honor given to one is honor to both; and hospitality to one is hospitality to both. Your friends are my friends, and your foes are mine. You are now of my family, the family of Erik Thorsson. My home is yours, brother. Be welcome at my hearth at any time."

Keon bows low in return, hair sweeping the ground. "The Honor of Dealg Drubh now entwines the Honor of Thorsson. May the Gods pity any who tread upon it."