"That whore," Mathos fumed angrily. "That bloody conniving whore," he ranted furiously to nobody in particular as he slammed the door shut to his office, the sound of glass hitting wood echoing loudly throughout the building. Thankfully, the brewery was closed at this hour to the public, and all of the people that worked there had gone home for the evening.
Earlier that afternoon, Mathos had had a business meeting with his sister. Luckily, the encounter had gone decently well, and Zoraida had accepted his invitation to go for a drink afterward. The excuse for that being that they were both from Spain - which as every Spanish person knew, meant some sort of strange and unexpected family or friend tie. The idea of six degrees of separation was never so true as with someone from the Iberian Penisula. Also, Mathos was interested in knowing more about the current state of his family and its operations.
However, during that seemingly innocuous and light-hearted conversation, Mathos had found out Zora had a son, and after probing a bit further, he had come to the conclusion that it had to be the elf's bastard, the one he had told his sister to get rid of. Knowing that she had disobeyed him, that she had most likely kept in touch with the child all along, made him see red. How dare her?
"Fucking bitch!" Mathos yelled as he picked up a glass on his desk and hurled it violently against the wall as the low din of the slaugh surrounding him became increasingly louder, now buzzing like a million bees in his ear.
"You thought you were so smart, didn't you? Pulling the wool over your stupid brother. Outsmart me. He'll never know. Thought I wouldn't find out?" he ranted wildly, his rambling more incoherent as he furiously grabbed any object he could find - among them a bronze ashtray and a heavy paperweight - and hurled them against the wall, each one thrown angrier and with more force than the last.
"Well, you aren't!" he shouted, his voice rising and echoing down the hall. "You are not smarter than me!"
Earlier that afternoon, Mathos had had a business meeting with his sister. Luckily, the encounter had gone decently well, and Zoraida had accepted his invitation to go for a drink afterward. The excuse for that being that they were both from Spain - which as every Spanish person knew, meant some sort of strange and unexpected family or friend tie. The idea of six degrees of separation was never so true as with someone from the Iberian Penisula. Also, Mathos was interested in knowing more about the current state of his family and its operations.
However, during that seemingly innocuous and light-hearted conversation, Mathos had found out Zora had a son, and after probing a bit further, he had come to the conclusion that it had to be the elf's bastard, the one he had told his sister to get rid of. Knowing that she had disobeyed him, that she had most likely kept in touch with the child all along, made him see red. How dare her?
"Fucking bitch!" Mathos yelled as he picked up a glass on his desk and hurled it violently against the wall as the low din of the slaugh surrounding him became increasingly louder, now buzzing like a million bees in his ear.
"You thought you were so smart, didn't you? Pulling the wool over your stupid brother. Outsmart me. He'll never know. Thought I wouldn't find out?" he ranted wildly, his rambling more incoherent as he furiously grabbed any object he could find - among them a bronze ashtray and a heavy paperweight - and hurled them against the wall, each one thrown angrier and with more force than the last.
"Well, you aren't!" he shouted, his voice rising and echoing down the hall. "You are not smarter than me!"
