The journey to the estate cells was made in near silence.
The bottom levels of our estate had never been designed for comfort. Cold stone walls stretched endlessly beneath the estate, illuminated by enchanted lanterns that cast pale golden light across iron bars and reinforced doors. The air smelled faintly of damp stone and steel. Normally the atmosphere alone was enough to unsettle prisoners. Today it was my father who made the place feel terrifying.
My father walked beside me without speaking, his expression carved from stone. Every guard we passed straightened instantly before lowering their gazes. The pressure rolling from him was almost tangible. It felt less like walking beside a person and more like walking beside a dormant volcano moments from erupting. Nero noticed it too.
[Host, your father appears to be contemplating seventeen different methods of execution.]
'Only seventeen?'
[You are right. Twenty-three seems more accurate.]
I almost smiled. Almost.
