Kael remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on Aelirenne, who now, seated on her shattered throne, still tried to maintain the semblance of sovereignty she once symbolized. But something in her shoulders betrayed the wear and tear—not just physical, but ancestral. The weight of centuries of tradition, pride, and sacrifice.
He sighed.
"Let's make one thing clear right now..." His voice was cold as ancient ice, without the veneer of cordiality of earlier moments. "I don't care about your people, Aelirenne. Not one bit."
She frowned, surprised by his abrupt frankness.
"This stupid war between elven clans for reasons I don't know beyond pure racial disgust, a fucking racist fight... it all gets on my nerves. This retarded fight shouldn't even exist."
The silence that fell was dense, almost palpable.
