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Even after deciding, however, Vasiliy was slow to get up. He was in no rush to deal with all of the nuisances that today was going to bring.

Unfortunately, he had to dress himself, because he’d made the decision a few days ago to remove the resident slaves from the palace grounds. With all the in-fighting going on at the moment, it was simply too dangerous to keep them here. Yana and Yuliya had both been very vocal about their displeasure with that development, but Vasiliy had stopped caring about the endless whining of his wives years ago. If they couldn’t manage for a few weeks without their slaves, then they were even more hopeless than he thought.

Ah, but perhaps they would try to have him assassinated again. Short-sighted witches. He almost hoped that they did. That might finally give him enough evidence to convince their reapers to release their worthless souls. He regretted ever finding reapers for them in the first place. What madness had possessed him to do such a thing?

In any case, the rumbling continued throughout the morning, even as he prepared breakfast for himself in an empty kitchen. That much, at least, was somewhat refreshing, having an opportunity to eat in peace for a change. Were all the wives and children fighting, too?

Perhaps the family was making a game of it. He supposed it was a rare opportunity--in their minds, at least. With the constant threat of Grandfather’s return looming over everyone’s head, there was always a sense of emotional repression afoot. Vasiliy knew that only too well, having grown up in the very same environment.

Even if none within the family would ever admit it publicly, it was doubtless to his mind that everyone felt, on some level, a form of jealousy toward those wild men who lived over on Morgunov’s side of the aisle.

The freedom they had. The lack of burdens and responsibilities. That was, at times, quite enviable.

But even the children also understood that those same wild men were insufferable, moronic bastards, unworthy of their time or trust.

That was one lesson that the Dozer clan had always made sure to impart upon its new generations.

As he neared the end of his meal, Vasiliy grew curious enough to ask his reaper a question. ‘Can you tell who’s winning out there?’ he thought in Valgan.