The beating's he unleashed on his worhtless dragon mount were starting to numb his dominant hand and arm. The creature was so contemptible that he wanted nothing more then to gut it and craft it's hide into armor. However, at the behest of his prince, it was no longer within his reach. It was in a special stable, with that cold eye rider he disliked most taking care of it. The Prince did this on purpose, saving face with the excuse that the dragon needed proper tending lest Varg fall out of the sky. Contemptible bastards, all of them.
But this was the least of Lord Varg's worries, the break in's had become almost commonplace. He had to higher some of the Mercenaries that the Prince had summoned and even then his harassers found other means to vex him. One evening he had found a steaming pile of horse manure on his bedding, he had his maid whipped for not taking care of the stench sooner but it forced him to sleep in a different part of his manor. Which led to the fist sized rock someone had lobbed through the window and had narrowly missed his head. Despite his fury and the best efforts of his mercenaries, the perpetrator escaped again.
He grumbled into his rapidly emptying decanter of wine. "It's that Noblewom's fault, ever since she showed up my life has turned into hell. I'll deal with that b%%~*..." He smiled viciously. "She'll pay in screams for what her coming has brought down on me. Oh she'll pay..." From there Lord Varg's presence in the council meeting's increased and his voice became more commonplace and accepted by the Prince of Orlov as Lord Varg aimed to usurp the current Hand of the King and correct the grave issues facing Orlov. Namely the arrogant nobility that still opposed him...