Duke Vaelorian's slow, malevolent cackle filled the chamber, his countenance contorting into a sinister smile as his eyes locked onto Azrael.
Azrael, perturbed by the Duke's reaction, couldn't help but furrow his brows, pondering in silence, 'What is the source of this amusement?'
With a raspy whisper that seemed to have lain dormant for years but now found its way into the world, Duke Vaelorian muttered, "You must be jesting." Abruptly, he rose from his chair, creating a screeching sound as the wooden legs protested, and forcefully pounded his hands upon the table, causing the room to reverberate with his unrestrained laughter. Azrael maintained his silence, his gaze unwaveringly fixed upon the older man.
