Lady Borric? Lady Borric!?
Borric was a seven-foot mountain of muscle, his physique rippling like forged steel. To be called a lady was nothing short of an insult to his existence.
Borric's face flushed red.
"Take that back…" he growled.
An oppressive pressure leaked from him, causing the platform beneath them to tremble.
Garrick tilted his head, meeting Borric's gaze. He released no pressure of his own, yet somehow, his presence swallowed Borric's entirely.
"Or what?"
Borric's gaze darkened. Garrick's eyes… those were the eyes of a man already halfway to attacking.
If the Hartvains were known as a crude and brutal bunch, then Garrick was infamous across the South as a complete madman. The sort who wouldn't hesitate to attack someone even during an event as important as the Proving.
Borric gritted his teeth before finally sinking back into his seat.
