Cherion jumped back, yelping like a startled cat. His heart, already doing a frantic percussion against his ribs from the "clinical study" of those shirtless sodliers, practically lodged itself in his windpipe.
Beside the hulking frame of the Duke, Soren appeared like a shadow manifesting out of the mountain mist. The aide offered a perfectly angled bow, but. Zarius didn't even look at him. He merely lifted his hand, and Soren drifted backward several paces.
Zarius turned his full attention back to Cherion. He looked entirely too unimpressed, his red eyes harboring a dark, simmering irritation.
"I... uh... Good morning, Your Grace," Cherion stammered.
Zarius didn't bother with the pleasantries. He didn't even wish him a good morning back. "We return to the previous topic, then. So? Having fun ogling at my soldiers?"
