The torches burned low in Dean's chamber
He sat at his desk, deep in thought, his fingers absently drumming against the wood. Marcus stood nearby, arms crossed, waiting for the next command.
Then, a faint rustling.
Both men turned as a small bird fluttered through the open window, landing on the desk before Dean.
Marcus arched a brow. "A message?"
Dean reached forward, untying the tiny parchment from the bird's leg.
As his eyes scanned the words, a slow, pleased smirk spread across his face.
"Everything is going as planned," he murmured, amusement lacing his tone.
He leaned back in his chair, folding the parchment between his fingers.
"The Dud is unwise."
Marcus exhaled. "Then it's working."
Dean chuckled, tossing the note into the fire. "Better than I expected."
He laughed out loud, "fools! That Dud is really a fool. I thought he was wise."
Dean laughed, hitting Marcus as he grinned. "Come over here, Marcus."
