"I apologize, my sovereign. It was presumptuous of me to assume you were happy with the Ninth Vein's changes."
The afternoon air was gentle. The sun was not. However, both Darke and the inhabitants of the main building could sense it, the Blood Sovereign was in a good mood.
"Hm. It's a passable improvement."
"Passable, my sovereign? He defeated the Eighth and Sixth Veins, and not only withstood an army, but slaughtered them too. Isn't that a remarkable achievement, my sovereign?" Darke asked respectfully. But he already knew the truth. He had served the man for decades after all.
The sovereign's lips had risen once more, and the air around him seemed to soften with every bit of praise Darke gave.
"You're smiling again, my sovereign."
The sovereign's lips fell sharply, and he cleared his throat. Darke resisted the urge to laugh. It was moments like this that reminded him the sovereign was still human.
"Darke."
Darke quickly bowed. "Yes, my sovereign."
