"Oh, it'll pass quicker than you might expect, I think," Janius said. "Thorantilth won't necessarily be putting you to sleep, but I am told the two of you will be taking Hist sap during the process. Perhaps the Hist will make for interesting conversation, hm? You might end up learning something about yourself."

[hr]
Fendros tried his best to maintain eye contact with his father. He responded as calmly as he could, which was unlike how tightly he was holding onto Ahnasha's hand. "You gave it to me, father."

Rossarm lifted his upper lip. "I gave it to my son. You are not my son."

"Father, you're being unreasonable-"

"You turned your back on your ancestors the moment you bound yourself to this animal!" He shouted. "I want what's mine. The sword."

Fendros teeth ground in his mouth. He managed not to raise his voice. "...If I give the sword back, will you at least talk to me?"

"The only mercy I would owe you is to let you out of my sight, to decay in the mud as you have been for the past decade." Rossarm wiped a drop of spit from his lips. "And I'll bury the sword, hold a funeral for my only child of blood. My waste."