Vareon slaps the young servant woman a second time, causing both Mystara and the Elven gentlemen she was looking at to hop onto their feet.
“How dare you serve this to me?!” His face contorts into an evil grimace. “I hate the very smell of seafood! The last thing I want is to have it shoved under my nose, you stupid b***h!”
The terrified girl tries to hide her face in her hair, bow, and offer her apologies. It is useless. The vile poison is spewing from Vareon relentlessly. The back of his hand connects with the side of her face, sending her crashing to the ground. Mystara can stand idly by no longer.
“Enough!” She cries and all eyes shift to her.
“Silence yourself! This is not your place to speak! I will do as I wish!” Vareon spits the words in her direction and steps closer.
Mystar
