"Unfilial son!"
The father's roar shook the study.
The last time Tomond had seen his father this furious was when he was six.
Back then, he had been running wild through the fields with the steward's daughter from the country estate, laughing, throwing mud, and rolling around until their clothes were filthy. They had been having the time of their lives—until his returning father and grand-great-uncle caught them.
He still remembered his father's livid expression, and the faint mocking smile between his grand-great-uncle's brows.
And now, many years later, his father was trembling from head to toe, pointing at him through clenched teeth:
"Razor Marius! A thousand years of inheritance, all ruined by your hands!"
A thousand years of inheritance, all ruined by my hands?
Ha.
Tomond wanted to laugh.
To laugh loudly.
"If the Marius family could be ruined so easily," he said expressionlessly, "perhaps its fortunes were already running out?"
His father grew even angrier. He rose and drew his sword, but someone pressed down on his shoulder.
"Don't panic."
His grand-great-uncle sat to his father's left, as calm as ever. For years, he had offered advice to his father and the family, displaying both resourcefulness and devotion.
But was that why he had entered the Punishment Wing? Because he was calm enough while skinning prisoners?
Or was his grand-great-uncle simply skilled at plotting how to torture people?
"We still have one final chance." His grand-great-uncle's expression remained composed.
"You have no chance," Tomond said coldly. "The Kingdom Secret Bureau and the Black Prophet will eventually track down those who committed the grave crime of betraying the enemy and treason."
"I'll kill you before that happens!" his father roared.
Why? Why did they all like using that to intimidate others?
Even when it had no effect?
"Why, Little