Soon, two guards escorted a man inside.
It was none other than His Highness Prince Elliot.
The once-dashing prince was now a complete mess.
His magnificent robes were wrinkled and stained, his hair was a mess, and his face was so pale it was devoid of color. His eyes were vacant and dejected.
His time in confinement had utterly shattered his pride.
When he lifted his head and saw Angmar Duke, a brilliant light erupted in his dead, ashen eyes.
"Uncle!"
As if clutching at his last straw of hope, he broke free from the guards, stumbled, and threw himself at Angmar Duke's feet, almost crawling the last few inches. His voice was thick with tears.
Angmar Duke looked down at his nephew, his expression complex—a mix of pity, but mostly disappointment.
"Look at the state of you."
He shook his head and turned to Aiden Duke.
