Mirius turned to the village chief writhing on the floor and addressed him calmly.
"I have no real use for you anymore. Honestly, get that treated and run away if you wish."
His words must have sunk in, because without even looking at Mirius, the chief—shaking violently—forced himself upright, pressing all his weight onto his remaining arm. Limping, he staggered slowly out, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.
Mirius's gaze shifted to Veronica. His voice dropped into a murmur.
"Well… hands or no hands, it makes little difference to me. Especially after you lost so pathetically. Showing such arrogance… I suppose this is just another misfortune that comes with being weak."
Then he looked at Azriel.
"Let's go somewhere more private."
Azriel gave a curt nod and followed him. A side door from the cabin led into another room. When Azriel closed it behind them, he found himself in a modest bedroom: a single bed, a table, and a chair.
