Beon exhaled slowly and rubbed his temple.
"Seriously… kids these days take everything way too literally. Even that son of mine is starting to act more like you."
He gave the Duke a sideways glance. "Then again, you two were practically raised side by side. Maybe it just comes with age…"
"If this is what comes with age," the Duke replied with a quiet grin, "then I'd say you're digressing, old man."
"Tch. That nobly sharp tongue of yours." Beon clicked his tongue and waved his hand lazily, as if shooing away the insult. "You talk like a gentleman, but your words bite like a back-alley thug."
The tension melted into the background, replaced by an air of dry familiarity.
The mood in the room lightened—not with warmth exactly, but with the kind of grudging comfort that came from two old warriors trading jabs instead of blades.
"With the assessment you have of him now," the Duke asked, his voice even but curious, "what are you planning to do?"
