A pudgy figure rested on a chair, scrawling away at something on his desk. The desk was extravagant; a furniture made from the priced mahogany from the northern forests of the elves. It was a product tailored for the upper echelons of society, a product only the filthy rich would purchase to flaunt their deep pockets.
The room was as dark as the gaols of Rynona, and as silent to boot. Silvery moonlight slipped through the window of the room. The lonely moon hung proudly in the dusky sky, radiating an icy sense of beauty.
"How are things on your end?"
The plump figure spoke to the air. His hand continued scribbling at the piece of paper like clockwork.
For a moment, it seemed as if he had spoken to himself, but then a voice replied him.
"Easier than it's ever been. All that's left is a little push behind their backs to get them going."
A raspy voice replied in a hushed tone from the window.
"Excellent."
A wide, toothy grin split on the face of the figure, his pearly teeth gleaming under the moonlight. A chilling breeze swept past the window. Far off, a raven cawed loudly into the night as a flag rustled in the breeze.
The scratching of pen on paper continued late into the night.