Ithildir reclined on the ornate throne with an air of entitlement, his demeanor oozing with arrogance and self-importance. However, his apparent tranquility sharply contrasted with the unease evident among the other elders gathered in the chamber.
"Ithildir, I think we should worry more about the disappearance of Lady Iris," one of the elders ventured cautiously, his tone tinged with concern.
"Ithildir? It's Emperor Ithildir," the self-proclaimed ruler corrected sharply, his voice laced with authority and disdain for any perceived disrespect.
The elder, taken aback by the rebuke, quickly apologized, his voice trembling with apprehension. "F-Forgive me, Emperor Ithildir."
Ithildir's scowl deepened at the interruption, his displeasure evident in the stern set of his jaw. "We don't have to worry about such a thing. With Purgatory's backing, they won't stand a chance," he declared confidently, dismissing any notion of concern with a wave of his hand.
