"Stand up, Castellan Stanislaus. There's no need for your life to be in jeopardy here, is there?"
Henrie's voice remained as cold as his unrelenting expression. The gleaming blade continued to be aimed at the castellan even as he prostrated himself on the ground.
With the blade's gentle pressure, Henrie now raised Castellan Stanislaus's trembling face.
Castellan Stanislaus, fearing that even the slightest movement could lead to a gruesome injury, complied with the blade's guidance, rising to his feet.
He struggled to suppress his trembling, clasping his arms firmly to control it. "No, Your Highness," he stammered.
"In that case, enlighten me about your true intentions. I must warn you, Castellan, my patience has always been in short supply," Henrie declared, the icy edge in his voice matching the sharpness of his blade.
