The crew lounged idly inside the cramped little mud house, not even bothering to untie the ropes binding their hands. The only one seemingly unaffected by their predicament was Laziel, who chattered endlessly like a parrot, his words flowing like a stream with no end.
His grandfather, Moryn, had endured enough. His patience snapped, his aged voice cutting through the air.
"Shut your mouth, boy! One more word, and I'll sew your lips shut with a thread!" he barked, his tone sharp enough to make the crew flinch.
Laziel's mouth closed shut, his shoulders drooped, and he lowered his head like a scolded puppy. Slowly, he scooted away from his grandfather and shuffled toward Alaric.
Pax, glancing between the two, couldn't contain his curiosity. "Why's he mad at you? Isn't he your grandfather?"
