"M-Milord, please, calm your anger…Y-Your heart!"
"L-Lord Father, please calm down."
Worried exclamations echoed in succession as Dweezel entered a dimly lit yet luxurious meeting room with a Hawkin Banner suspended on the walls, still coughing up blood hours after Shye's letter had agitated his heart, even upon returning to his headquarters.
The memory of Seventeenth's monumental failure at a seemingly simple task, combined with Second Hawkling's devastating loss of three-fourths of his elite scouts, only fueled his growing fury.
The old snake also seemed slightly disappointed in his first son for not monitoring Seventeenth Hawkling's task properly.
Nonetheless, being the cunning and experienced bastard he was, Dweezel knew that being consumed by anger wouldn't help.
Hence, he raised his arms, signaling his men to cease bothering him for a moment.
