"No daughter of mine will- ACK!"

You whirl around, grabbing the Swall by the throat. You lift him up in the air with one hand as he snarls, squeezing his throat tightly.

”Oh! I see time around high Jaxtian society has taught you to be just as much of a backstabber as an monkey! But you didn't learn that you need to back up that bravado with some skills with a knife!”

Christopher chokes, acidic ink-spit trailing down his chin and burning into your robe's sleeve. He could try to spit it into your eyes and blind you; but your doctors would just grow you new corneas while you twist his head off. It's of no concern to you; but he doesn't spit. He shivers, his hands not clawing, merely trying to get your hand off his throat. The fight has completely left him.

“I- I-” You squeeze his throat to silence him.

”Ah ah ah! You have to make it official? You want to be the Supreme Ruler? Then you gotta duel me! Go ahead, say it! “I- Challenge- You!” Go on, say it!”

With each word, you squeeze his throat. His gill-flips open and close useless in instinct, trying desperately for air.

“I'm- I- am- sor- ry!”

>Snap his neck
>Let him go