"Weak… like your sister?"
A flicker of shock passed through Guren's gaze, but he quickly masked it with a laugh.
"Haha… you're a funny one. I didn't know Calderalth warriors were the humorous type." He said, shaking his head before turning toward the tavern.
"…but my sister… you're right, she could be considered weak. But she's family. You can't help but worry about them. Sometimes the weak don't know when to stop, or when they've gone too far. So sometimes…" he let out a faint breath, a cold smile forming.
"…you have to decide it for them. Better they break by your hand than die by someone else's."
"…"
"Guren, come join us!"
"Yeah, you're getting drunk to death today!"
As Guren pushed himself off the wall, Zephyrion caught that same familiar scent again. This time, the heavy stench of alcohol mixed with it, making it harder to identify.
