"Alright, Grandpa," Judge said, plopping onto the couch like a sack of potatoes, his legs swinging in the air. "You promised! Spill it!"
"Patience, my boy," Gereon said, sipping his tea with the kind of exaggerated slowness that screamed I'm going to make you wait just because I can. "A tale like this deserves a proper setup. Let's see…where do we begin?" He stroked his beard dramatically. "Ah, yes— your mother, Eleyn. Back in her younger days, she was...well, how do I put this delicately?"
"Terrifying?" Judge guessed, smirking.
Gereon chuckled darkly. "Oh, she was scary alright, but in a different way. You see, back then, Eleyn was just a hot-headed, overconfident young lady who thought she could conquer the world. She didn't walk; she marched. And she had this idea in her head that nothing— not storms, beasts, or the laws of gravity— could stop her. But then..." He trailed off, deliberately dramatic, leaning closer.