It was another hour or so after their conversation lulled, that footsteps sounded in the back hall of the kitchen - and when he appeared at the threshold, there was a moment in which Cele did not recognize the young, statuesque prince.
He cast a quick and effective gaze over the room, before finding Cele, squatting on the stool and bound like a pig.
“General,” he smirked.
“Prince Heiko.” The general offered a wave with his tied wrists.
“I see my men have bound you like an unruly cur.”
He made his way to the general and pulled a knife from his belt before seizing the general’s wrists in his cold fingers. He looked wildly divergent from the Simonese prince that he had seen in an Ilysian chiton not a week ago, especially when he so deftly slid the blade between Cele’s hands - without
