“It’s not your place to direct where I should be. I warn you, stop bothering the women of the Mallister family.”
“What, all Mallister women belong to you now, Lucan? Aren’t you afraid your master will rise from his grave...”
Before Grennan could finish, Lucan stepped forward, his raging aura sweeping through the courtyard like a hurricane, sending tables, along with Grennan and his couch, flying.
“What the hell are you doing?” Grennan stood up, shouting at Lucan.
The Protégés of Cobalt Strike rushed into the courtyard, confronting the guard squad.
“Come on then, damn it, I’ve had enough,” the Mallister guards growled like mad wolves, their eyes red with fury.
The Cobalt Strike Protégés didn’t advance further, but they didn’t retreat either.
Lucan rebuked Grennan, “Keep in line. If you harass Oda again, I’ll twist off your head!”
“Then do it, I’m right here in front of you. If you’ve got the nerve, twist it off now! You are but a Mallister lapdog, and you think you’re something special.,” Grennan jeered, bolstered by the wine.
“Lucan, hold on, let’s just bear with it a bit longer,” Oda pleaded, clutching Lucan’s arm.
“This isn’t over,” Lucan warned Grennan, ready to lead his group away. If he hadn’t had such patience, he would’ve met his demise countless times by now. He was well aware of why Vandill had brought his spoiled grandson here – to humiliate the Mallister family and stir up trouble.
“Wait a moment,” Grennan commanded, sprawling lazily on a plush couch. He pointed to the shattered wine jug. “This jug, I brought it from Cobalt Strike. It’s very precious, and worth at least ten advanced magical ores. How will you compensate me?”
“Don’t push us too far,” one of the guardsmen couldn’t help but interject, disgusted with the scoundrel.
Grennan tilted his head back, giving them a look that challenged. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Who broke it?” Lucan asked indifferently.
“Your little lady did, of course.”
“And who saw it happen?”
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