"… What?" The king gasped.
"Are you hard of hearing, old man?"
There was a stunned pause.
Then Rosie leaned in close to the necklace, puffing her cheeks. "Get your ears cleaned out, Gramps!"
The sound of sharp inhales followed from the other end of the link. Quinlan could sense the heat of outrage building around the king's position. The Aegis Vanguard, his personal guard, stirred like a nest of hornets ready to sting.
No one, no one, spoke to the King of Vraven like that.
If Quinlan and Rosie were present while uttering such blasphemy, they would've already been executed for their words.
But before they could so much as exchange angry glances among one another, a single finger rose into the air.
"Enough," Alexios demanded.
The air froze as his royal hounds, held on a tight leash, obeyed.
He exhaled, a long, measured breath.
"You're still a rude bastard, I see. Or rather, even more so…"
