The soft creak of the study door opening made him glance up. Prime Minister Varric entered with a slow, steady stride, his expression measured but not without concern.
"Your Majesty," Varric said with a bow, his graying hair neatly combed and his robes perfectly arranged. "Prince Kaelen has departed with the Royal Guard. He should arrive at Farhold by dawn."
"Good," Alaric muttered, folding the report and setting it aside. He sat back in his chair, fingers steepling beneath his chin. "If that Duke is still breathing by the time Kaelen arrives, it will be by Kaelen's mercy alone."
Varric's mouth twitched into a small smile. "Then I suspect the Duke should be preparing his last words."
When Alaric answered, "If he's wise," his eyes lit up with the cold fire of power. "But I don't think so. Usually, foolish guys don't realize their foolishness until it's too late."
