Terras collapsed to his knees, blood streaming between his fingers as he tried to stem the bleeding. Several guests rushed to assist him, while others stared at Grim with mixtures of fear and admiration.
"Perhaps Lord Terras should seek medical attention," Grim observed with cold indifference. "And perhaps he should consider whether attending future Ambrose celebrations aligns with his... health interests."
"Grim," Princess Liona had appeared at his side, her voice carrying both concern and something that might have been approval. "That was... decisive."
"It was necessary," Grim replied, his anger beginning to cool as he watched Terras being helped toward the exit by his supporters. "Some people only understand one language."
"Indeed they do," came a familiar voice. Grim turned to see Malaxis approaching with an expression of paternal pride that felt deeply wrong. "I'm proud of you, son. A man who won't defend his household doesn't deserve to lead it."
