MALRIC
Malric chuckled darkly, the sound low and humorless as it rolled through the chamber like distant thunder.
The tension in the room shifted almost immediately, tightening in a way that made the air feel heavier. He leaned back in his chair with deceptive ease, rolling the coin of ill fates slowly across the backs of his fingers.
The familiar metal clicked softly as it turned, catching the pale afternoon light streaming through the tall windows behind him.
"Uncle Zander," he said, his voice dripping with mock courtesy, "should I personally fillet your son? Or should I leave the honors to you?"
Zander did not answer immediately. His sharp gaze slid toward his kneeling son with the calm patience of a man who had long since grown accustomed to his child's reckless tongue. Aedryn, however, looked entirely unbothered by the threat hanging over his head.
"Fillet me if you wish," Aedryn said, shrugging lightly as though the matter were trivial.
