As Earl Verion turned, his cloak billowed behind him. Without sparing the Minotaur envoy another glance, he flung him aside with a pulse of unseen force. The envoy crashed near the foot of the throne platform, coughing violently as he struggled to rise.
"You may leave for now, Minotaur envoys," Verion said coldly, his voice echoing through the grand chamber.
He resumed his slow march toward the throne, his boots clicking with crisp precision.
He sat back upon his throne. His expression was unreadable, carved from stone, but the aura radiating from his body left no doubt—he was far from pleased.
With a sharp snap of his fingers, two figures materialized in a shimmer of light beside the throne.
