The Murmur of his past was a man who demanded absolute, trembling subjugation. He was a creature who actively wanted to be feared, and he would always take the necessary, violent steps to ensure that fear was planted deep into a person's bones.
Years ago, even if Murmur claimed he had no interest in the throne, he would never have allowed Chen to sit above him. His father would have been the one lounging on the obsidian seat, while Chen himself would have been brought to his knees on the cold floor, his head bowed in absolute submission.
Yet now, Murmur just sat there, enduring a blade to his throat and a disrespectful dismissal from his son without so much as lifting a finger. The previous tyrant was acting like a patient spectator, and that realization sent a completely different kind of chill down Chen's spine.
He had accepted the inevitable consequence of his outburst and was fully prepared for the violent correction to fall upon him. But it didn't.
