The mers that had laughed at him, scorned him, and watched him die were now bowing before him like the servile puppets to power that they were. Syryn should have felt something - victorious, satisfied, but all he felt was empty. Where was the joy he had expected to feel? Was his return to Silisia for nothing? Maybe he would have enjoyed it more seeing them suffer viscerally, he thought. Syryn entertained the idea of pitting the mers in a fight to the death against each other. The losers would be fed to Levia, if they survived the fight, and the winners would live another day.
"Drevin, Why don't we host a competition for the nobles?" Syryn said it loud enough for the mers to hear.
The silver mer enquiringly looked at him. All the nobles lifted their curious eyes to Syryn.
