Chapter 63 - 62 - Pretty Like a Guillotine
The handsome man stroked the egg’s shell with his long, cold fingers, as if calming the unborn creature nestled within.
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"You’re getting restless again," he murmured, his voice deep and calm, barely more than a whisper.
His eyes wandered to the small window of the carriage, gazing toward the distant skyline of Dorthlam—its stone towers and fluttering royal banners visible in the early night breeze.
"Be still."
The egg quivered ever so slightly—barely perceptible—but he noticed immediately. He rested his chin on his raised knee, closed his eyes slowly, and exhaled.
"Hah..." A long, languid sigh escaped his lips, heavy with boredom. He glanced at the crimson egg nestled in his arms, then cast his gaze toward the dark sky beyond the window.
"Why must I do such troublesome work...?" he muttered, speaking either to the wind or perhaps to himself.
He closed his eyes, hoping to drift off to sleep with the soft rocking of the carriage.
But then...
The carriage came to a sudden stop.
"...My lord," the driver’s nervous voice called from the front, "We... we’re surrounded."
The man opened his eyes slowly. They were a soft gold—but his gaze burned with the quiet threat of fire, knowing full well it could consume everything.