Oscar watched as his miserable wretch of an uncle cowered under his sheets. The stench of urine proof positive of how weak and pathetic this creature was. Oscar had not known until right now why he had felt compelled to risk his life for such a visit. He knew along he would not kill Castor this night.

Now the risk suddenly made sense. Castor had, since he could remember plagued his life. All his life Oscar had been terrified of his cruel uncle. Now the aura of fear had been lifted and the relief was intense. Now the fear resided on the other side of the equation.

“Was this how you imagined it? Was this how you thought power would feel like, surrounded by the Lermodian scum who guard your door, with your own people at the gate baying for your blood? Was it for this you slaughtered your own kin?”. Oscar felt a warmth envelope his face that he soon realised was a smile, a sensation he had not felt too often of recent.

“I’ll take my leave of you dear uncle, but next time we meet shall be our last”.