human
Bartroi:  The plan he and Lamia were hatching could shatter the Rite of Imperial Selection, the most important ritual in all Volakia—there was no telling where information might leak from. He couldn’t be too careful. The day was near at hand, though, when all his travails would be rewarded. She will keep her promise, he told himself. "I know it was to save our siblings, but I do regret obliging you to challenge yourself with the Bright Sword. That day, if—”
gpt
Lamia:  "If I’d burned, too, it would have been quite the problem, wouldn’t it?"
human
Bartroi:  "There are no truer words! Ahem, not that this is any laughing matter." Bartroi shook his head, chastising himself for the sardonic smile that had crossed his face. Trying to relieve the persistent dryness in his throat, he refilled his empty cup with more wine. Maybe it was the sense of accomplishment at having fulfilled his great mission that made the drink seem to go to his head so quickly. Or maybe he just wanted to try to blind himself to the fact that even as they spoke, people to whom they were connected by blood were openly killing one another. He drank some more, swallowing noisily. "By the way, Bartroi. There’s something I’ve been thinking about, just in passing."
gpt
Bartroi:  "Oh? What’s that?"
human
Lamia:  "You know how they say that humans can perform tremendous displays of strength when gripped by rage or desperation?"
gpt
Bartroi:  "Rage…or desperation?" Bartroi looked at Lamia from his place on the sofa, not sure what had brought on this subject.
human
Lamia:  His sister sat stone-still, except that she held up two fingers and nodded. "Yes, exactly. These nine siblings that you’ve brought me, Bartroi… Well, they know the situation they’re in. I’m sure they’ll all cooperate with me out of desperation. But do you think some of them might be frightened as well?"
gpt
Bartroi:  "Well, it’s true that they’re hardly a group of born fighters."
human
Lamia:  "And yet we must band together if we’re going to achieve our objective. They need anger. Fury powerful enough to overcome their terror. Such as…"
gpt
Bartroi:  "Such…such as what…?" Lamia’s honeyed voice sounded oddly distant to Bartroi. His head felt so heavy, and the world around him seemed…insubstantial. His head bobbed forward. His throat was so dry. He needed another drink. That had to be it. He poured more wine, more and more, until the glass overflowed. Finally, it fell over, and the drink began to dye the carpet scarlet…
human
Lamia:  "Well, for example, what if the dear, sweet elder brother all of them were counting on lost his life to a cruel trap?" He couldn’t even hear Lamia’s voice anymore. So dry. His throat was so dry. He wanted more wine. Yes… The wine Lamia had given him as a gift. "The wine…"
gpt
Lamia:  Lamia looked down at Bartroi, who had followed his glass in toppling to the wine-stained carpet. Her older brother had already stopped breathing; he didn’t so much as twitch.