"Dammit!"
Baam!
The viscount angrily pushed everything on his table to the ground with a single swing of his hand.
His face was etched with rage, his fingers fidgeting as he kept roaming around his office, moving from one end of the room to the other.
Ishtar sat on the couch, her leg crossed, a cup of tea in one hand while fanning herself with the other.
"How did that idiot failure get his hands on a mythical creature like a dragon? Since when has he been planning this? Weeks? Months? How did he do this and not a single person found him out?"
Embre paused.
"Was this how he was able to get that many dragon ores? He had a dragon producing them for him? Dammit, this shouldn't be possible! Only the kings of the empire have dragons, no? Right? Right, Ishtar?!"
He frustradedly turned to his daughter.
Looking back at him, Ishtar could only respond calmly, since for the most part, she genuinely didn't care.
