Xarion jerked his chin toward Vangar and gave Vincent a brief rundown of what had just happened—the disastrous knife work, the charred meat, the whole spectacle.
When he finished, he snorted lightly.
"I'm not dealing with someone that stupid. I'm going to stay with Female Master."
With that, Xarion turned on his heel and walked off without another glance.
Damn it…
He frowned to himself as he left. For a split second just now, he'd actually thought Vangar looked a little pitiful.
Ridiculous. That had to be an illusion. Definitely an illusion.
Vincent watched Xarion's retreating figure, the corner of his mouth twitching.
He'd asked Xarion to test Vangar—not to verbally dismantle him like that.
"…Marshal." Vincent turned to Vangar, forcing himself to speak. "Xarion's always like this. Don't take it to heart. I'll talk to him properly later."
Vangar lifted his eyes and glanced at him. He was his chosen successor. Did he not know exactly what kind of person Vincent was?
