As Asher stepped out of the room, Azeron sighed. The mission was just an excuse to give his son a reward, a way to compensate for his own inability to save him because of the constraints of his position.
As Azeron remained deep in thought, the door opened, and a man standing at over eight feet in height stepped in with a calm smile.
The First Sun, Malrik Wargrave.
Azeron had already sensed his presence long before he arrived. "Has the prodigal son finally remembered his father?" Azeron spoke, his tone dry, as Malrik simply sat down with composure.
"Father, I'm almost thirty already. I don't have to come see you every time I return home," Malrik replied, still wearing that same carefree smile.
Azeron snorted. "Hmph. And which parent wouldn't want to see their children's faces when they come back from work? Your siblings came to greet me, but you," his eyes narrowed, "you acted like I didn't exist, even though we returned on the same day, and before everyone else at that."
