By the time the meeting had concluded, Lord Snake and Lord Devil were thoroughly wasted, their cheeks flushed crimson as they giggled like schoolboys, tossing curses at the Golden Serpent and mumbling incoherently. Lord Hawke wasn't far behind—he could barely keep his footing, swaying on the spot like a ship in stormy waters.
I exhaled slowly, folding my arms as I observed the sorry state of my vassals—three Underworld Lords, each feared and revered in their own right, now reduced to little more than drunkards at a roadside tavern. It would've been amusing had it not been mildly concerning.
I signaled to the attendants, who promptly appeared and moved to assist the inebriated Lords to their guest chambers.
"We're staying the night?" Zach asked as he stumbled toward me, his eyes glazed but still twinkling with mischief.
