"FUCK! FUCKING DAMN IT! FUCKING USELESS BANDITS!"
The goat merchant's furious bellow rattled the paper screens of the chamber. He slammed his fist against the low table, scattering scrolls and a cup of tea that spilled across the tatami. His face twisted, veins bulging under his pale fur.
"They took my gold, my patience, my reputation—AND WHAT DO I GET BACK? NOTHING! Not a single report, not even the stinking hide of one of those undead mongrels! The Black Poison's ringleader—missing, or dead! Do you know what that means for me?! DO YOU—"
"Quiet."
The word was low, growled rather than spoken. One of the lupen bodyguards had stepped forward, ears flat, a hand resting casually on the hilt of his blade. His eyes glowed with a cold, predator's warning.
The goat froze mid-rant. His fury evaporated like steam under winter wind. He sank back down onto the cushion, his hooves trembling slightly. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "I-I… forgive me… I lost myself…"
