Javier turned, glancing back over his shoulder, eyes half-lidded with disinterest.
"Last warning," he said flatly. "Leave Arjam. Otherwise…" He tilted his head slightly, a slow grin curling on his lips. "I'll let my toys play with you. And trust me… they don't play nice."
Without rushing, he pulled an adamantite sword from his magic storage and rested it casually on his shoulder. The black sheen of the blade gleamed under the sun.
"You both aren't that stupid, right?" Javier asked, his voice low but clear. "Surely your households remember how strong Armand is. Both your regions sent troops during the first Noble Coalition War against us. What was it? Three… maybe four years ago?"
He let that sink in, then smirked and drove the blade into the dirt with a dull thunk. His hands rested on the hilt as the wind caught his cloak, billowing it behind him.
