Enjoy!
Outside, the twin suns began to set, one dutifully follo
wing
the other, and Alabassin continued to stare at the same page. He made
no move to light a candle or lamp as the shadows in his room deepened.
Just before the first sun dipped out of sight, the door to his room
slammed open, and his father stood there, silhouetted by the torchlight
in the corridor.
“Have your senses left you?” Li’endrin asked his only son. “Are my orders so unspecific that I have to remove myself from our guests to deliver them to you in detail?”
Alabassin raised his head to look at his father, weary of this constant conflict.
“I understood your orders.”
“Then why have you refused to come to the receiving hall?”
“I am not one of your lowly Nobles that feel the need to bow and scrape at your feet to remain alive.” Alabassin stood and walked over to stand before the man he called father. Lifting his chin, he looked down at his father who was half a head shorter. Alabassin knew it irritated him when he did this. “You cannot expect me to drop everything because you suddenly feel like entertaining guests. It's been years since you've had anyone to dine with you, what's the occasion? Looking to impregnate another wench and kill off a bastard child?”
“You are my son and future king of Relavia. If I order you to drop your breeches and piss in the street in front of a Priestess, you will do it. Do you understand me?”
Alabassin stood inches from his father's face and stared at him for a long moment. Years of hatred and abuse used to dictate how lightly he needed to tread around his father, but recent events lifted the heavy yoke of intimidation. His soul lightened considerably as he squared off with his father more and more in the last several days.
“Have your senses left you?” Li’endrin asked his only son. “Are my orders so unspecific that I have to remove myself from our guests to deliver them to you in detail?”
Alabassin raised his head to look at his father, weary of this constant conflict.
“I understood your orders.”
“Then why have you refused to come to the receiving hall?”
“I am not one of your lowly Nobles that feel the need to bow and scrape at your feet to remain alive.” Alabassin stood and walked over to stand before the man he called father. Lifting his chin, he looked down at his father who was half a head shorter. Alabassin knew it irritated him when he did this. “You cannot expect me to drop everything because you suddenly feel like entertaining guests. It's been years since you've had anyone to dine with you, what's the occasion? Looking to impregnate another wench and kill off a bastard child?”
“You are my son and future king of Relavia. If I order you to drop your breeches and piss in the street in front of a Priestess, you will do it. Do you understand me?”
Alabassin stood inches from his father's face and stared at him for a long moment. Years of hatred and abuse used to dictate how lightly he needed to tread around his father, but recent events lifted the heavy yoke of intimidation. His soul lightened considerably as he squared off with his father more and more in the last several days.
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