Brian walked down the length of the brightly lit corridor of his father's wing, without hurrying, his footsteps echoing against the floor.
He reached the door at the end, knocked once out of habit rather than courtesy, and pushed it open. The scene that greeted him made his stomach turn.
His father, Crane, lay sprawled naked across the large bed, eyes half-closed in pleasure. One woman knelt between his thighs, her head moving up and down as she took him into her mouth. The other woman pressed soft kisses across his chest, her hands roaming freely. Soft moans of pleasure filled the room.
Brian closed the door softly and stood by it. Always the same, he thought. While the kingdom shifts beneath our feet, he's drowning in flesh.
Crane's eyes flickered open at the sound of the door, but he didn't look startled; he looked bored. "Brian," he rumbled. "You're back."
"I need to speak with you, Father," Brian said in a clipped voice.
