Before the Duke could grant any kind of permission, Ashok's voice echoed through the silent room.
"Permission? HAH!" Ashok let out a loud sigh and shouted,
"YOU INCOMPETENT DOG!" His voice was sharp and echoed clearly, catching the three people in the room off guard. The venom in his tone was undeniable.
"Well! What can I expect from a failed sword, one that only leaves its sheath to harm its own master?" Ashok continued, his voice thick with contempt, each word dripping with disdain.
As soon as Ashok's words fell, a faint tremor ran through the sword at his neck, a subtle shake.
"You must hold quite a pride in that sword of yours, don't you?
I suppose cutting down the Bandit King has been pumping yours veins with pride, doesn't it?" Ashok's words were laced with biting sarcasm, each one deliberate and meant to sting.
