"As far as things stand," Shaza began, shifting in his chair, his rounded belly pushing forward as he leaned back with practiced nonchalance, "we both know where each of us stands and what each of us wants. So let us strip away the niceties, shall we? Things are simple. You return to me the iron mines you so hastily took from Oizen, and I will ensure you keep all the rest of your spoils.
Everything else you carved from that little craven, you may keep, I swear."
He smiled, thin and oily, lifting his cup of wine in a mock-toast. "I am not against your ambition to swallow the whole of Oizen, as far as I care they can go to hell and we can toast on their ashes."
The words were meant to sound generous, but Alpheo could hear the falsehood rattling beneath them like pebbles in a jar. No prince could ever look upon a neighbor growing so bloated without jealousy gnawing at his gut.
And this man was no exception.
