"Father… it seems… you have lost quite a lot of your memory," Arzhen said, his voice carefully calibrated to balance concern with a gentle correction.
"Yes, I am aware of the holes in my mind," Anton replied, frustrated. "But that does not explain this." He gestured vaguely toward the direction of the front gate, as if seeing the vast army still arrayed beyond.
"You came here to collect me, not to lay siege. Why bring a war-host? Were it not for your uncle's grace, marching such a force across sovereign territories would have sparked a dozen diplomatic fires. Offense would have been the least of it," Anton finally mentioned, digging and picking on every flaw.
"Father…"
"No. Do not 'Father' me with that placating tone. Tell me what is happening. Actually, do better. Summon your wife. I will hear the truth from her. She has always had a clearer view of this family's workings than any of us," Anton started to mock.
