A war?
Regent Titus threw a massive, sweeping right hook fueled by pure rage. The blow connected solidly. Caspian's head snapped sharply to the side, the force of the massive Beastman's fist sending a spray of red blood flying from the Merman's split lip to stain the polished stone of the hearth.
Caspian's eyes widened.
For a horrifying second, the room was perfectly still.
Then, slowly, Caspian turned his head back around. He didn't fall. He didn't even stagger. Despite the fragility of his newly mortal bones, the former Abyssal King simply spat a mouthful of metallic-tasting blood onto the floorboards and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
A slow, dark, and utterly chilling smirk curled Caspian's bruised lips.
Across the room, Zarek had completely abandoned his posture. The towering Dragon had casually sprawled himself out on the plush velvet sofa, crossing his heavy boots over the low wooden table.
