Chapter 63: You Wish
As Asher stepped out of the room, Azeron sighed. The mission was just an excuse to give his son a reward, a way to compensate for his own inability to save him because of the constraints of his position.
As Azeron remained deep in thought, the door opened, and a man standing at over eight feet in height stepped in with a calm smile.
The First Sun, Malrik Wargrave.
Azeron had already sensed his presence long before he arrived. "Has the prodigal son finally remembered his father?" Azeron spoke, his tone dry, as Malrik simply sat down with composure.
"Father, I’m almost thirty already. I don’t have to come see you every time I return home," Malrik replied, still wearing that same carefree smile.
Azeron snorted. "Hmph. And which parent wouldn’t want to see their children’s faces when they come back from work? Your siblings came to greet me, but you," his eyes narrowed, "you acted like I didn’t exist, even though we returned on the same day, and before everyone else at that."
Indeed, although both Malrik and Azeron had come back on the same day, Malrik hadn’t visited him even once, and they had been back for seven days now.
"Why don’t you come greet me then? Don’t I deserve at least that much?" Malrik countered with a snort of his own, raising an eyebrow.
"When you become the Primarch, then I will," Azeron responded with a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Father, you have zero scheming ability. If you want me to become the Primarch so soon, you should try thinking harder," Malrik replied, amused.
"Hoo... Just because you started scheming your way into noble politics, you now think you can talk back to me, huh?" Azeron said sharply. As if reacting to his mood, Ender, the ever-watchful spectral spear, appeared instantly beside him, humming with energy, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.