On the third morning of the Emerald Celebration, Thales forcefully pushed aside the servants blocking the way and barged into Jann's dining room.
"Prince Thales," the Duke of the Southern Shore put down his cutlery and elegantly wiped the corner of his mouth while signaling with his eyes for the servants not to panic, they only needed to close the door and leave, "I was wondering when you would come to me..."
But Thales stared at him coldly. "Explain."
"Explain what?" Jann's smile remained.
Thales closely observed the duke's every movement.
"Last night, one of my subordinates died," the prince said with rage writ upon his face, "suffering from fatal wounds, and there wasn't even enough time to call for a doctor."
Jann's smile vanished, and his hand holding the wine glass paused slightly.
"And you, Jann Kevendill, you will pay a price for this," Thales's eyes were like daggers, and he gritted his teeth, "I swear it, on the little puppet—on the name of Castle Star Lake."
