The Earl stood at the edge of the square, the knuckles of both hands turning slightly white from how hard he was clenching them.
For the first time, that deeply wrinkled face of his lost all composure.
His aged features twisted under the residual glow of the runes, his lips trembling violently, as if he had suddenly aged several more decades in an instant.
He stared at Duke, extreme anger and disbelief surging in those cloudy old eyes, along with a kind of indescribable, unspeakable unwillingness.
"You…" His voice was so hoarse it was almost gone, every syllable squeezed from his throat like sandpaper scraping on glass. "I always thought Wizards were cold-blooded and cruel, that you plunder Planes, slaughter natives, and would do anything for resources. Hundreds of commoners' lives—what difference do they have from ants by the roadside in your eyes? But you actually destroyed my Divine Sacrifice for the sake of these insects."
