"It doesn't matter how talented Anubis and Wepwawet are," Rendall said, swirling the amber liquid in his cup. "Dirtclaw paved the road. Those boys are just walking on it."
He took a sip, his expression cynical. "They stand tall, sure. But only because they're standing on the shoulders of Giants."
"What's this? Is that envy I hear?" Rendall asked, catching the look on Drakthul's face.
"Damn right it is," Drakthul grunted.
In front of Rendall, Drakthul didn't bother with the stoic elder statesman act. They had bled together in the trenches enough times that pretenses were useless.
"I look at the other families, pumping out geniuses left and right. Then I go home, look at my own grandkids, and I just want to strangle the lot of them," Drakthul sighed, the sound heavy with frustration. "I'm not joking, brother. There isn't a single one worth a damn. If even one of them showed the potential to break through to the Legendary Rank, I wouldn't be losing sleep every night."
