Damn whelp.

Infernal imp. Impetuous knave. Imbecilic mongrel.

If ever there was a single reason, nay, one hundred reasons, one thousand even, for me to loath and despise my current predicament, then Vali shall be them all.

I despise that child and his naïve hubris. And his insipid sister.

“Friends don’t lie.” The brazen insinuation that these heathens are my friends. The simpletons are useful. That is all. They further my personal goals, and perhaps in some small way, I take a vested interest in their wellbeing insofar as they serve my purposes better. Simpletons tend to serve better when they believe their master benevolent.

“Maybe that’s why you’re so lonely.” The impetus of the child. I choose to be free from emotional entanglements. I care not for these temporary cohorts I have been forced to associate with. I need their skills to ensure my survival. And the thwarting of the Machiavellian plot that we have been entangled in. Nothing more.

They all now seem to find amusement and solace in the thought that I am lonely and emotionally bereft. They intend to see me court that uncouth female (ludicrous to the extreme that I would fawn over any such creature), and even become more temperate and congenial to the party. They wholly fail to comprehend etiquette and protocol.

Brilliant.

I shall play the part and ingratiate myself into their affections. If it makes me more endearing to them and captures their loyalty and devotion to my cause, so be it. It will ultimately serve my purpose in the end.

And I will see my purpose fulfilled in the end. Devil be damned, I’ll be free from these hellions.

Had I known what portent that fateful meeting with Basil had all those months and years ago, I would have ran like a bat out of hell.