"I may be older than her, but my respect for her goes far deeper than mere rank and orders. I owe her much, and I swore an oath to serve her so long as she sees me fit to do so." He shoved the small man into the open doorway. "And I want nothing to do with whatever fell power you might promise."
He looked to the Major, and saw that she was asleep, or at least trying to make her way there. His gaze slid to the other two soldiers sill conscious.
"Watch him. Let him make his drink, and take nothing offered by him. Once he's finished, bind him and settle him near the door. One of you keep an eye on him, one of you rest - I'll take first watch just outside. Rotate every two hours - keep the Major and the other two outside outside of the rotation."
During his talk, he stripped the heavy plate armor off, organizing it in a spartanesque arrangement on the stone floor, leaving on his gambeson and chainmail. He took again strapped his two broadswords to his back, ensuring they were firmly in their leather sheaths, and took up his glaive, stepping towards the door.
Once outside, he stepped over to Sleipnir and Purgatorio, patting each of them in turn. He then stepped into the open area away from the two Theocog, and began swinging his glaive, his practice also meditation, in part.
The shining, silvery blade seemed to trace lines of light, reflecting what little could be gotten from the sky above. Each swing, fluid and moving directly into the next, made gentle sounds as the air parted to make way. Faster and faster that polearm swung, until it was naught more than a silver blur.
His mind was silent, his body was preoccupied, but his senses kept watch on his surroundings. Diz listened to the faint breeze, ears strained to listen for any unnatural sounds.