Like marauding warlords come to claim their spoils, the three of them stormed the room with all the subtlety of a battering ram. The door slammed open against the stone wall with a thunderous crack, echoing like a siege engine breaching a castle gate.
Inside, Alpheo jolted upright from his desk, his chair screeching backward across the floor. In one swift motion, his hand flew to his hip, where instinct told him a sword should be, while the other braced against the table to steady himself.
"What in the name of every saint and bastard are you doing!?" he gasped, his voice caught between fury and panic as he reealised there was no danger . He clutched at his chest like a man narrowly escaped death. "Are you trying to kill me? You absolute bastards!"
Egil, grinning like a devil, sauntered in with his arms open wide. "Come now....are you really that scared of your own friends?"
