Inside the throne room of Aritreia, Latrel Silversin, now self-proclaimed King of Aritreia, sat on the throne with a sword in one hand and a cup of beer in the other. His eyes were full of anger and frustration, creating a heavy tension in the air. Beside him stood a golden-haired woman, the rightful queen of Aritreia, now reduced to a mere servant. She carried a silver tray, her face bruised and swollen, with purple marks and red eyes that betrayed a hard beating.
"Have you still not found them?" - Latrel demanded furiously, glaring at the soldier standing before him, the captain of the capital's patrol team.
"No, Your Majes—" - The soldier began, catching himself as he almost addressed him by his former title. His eyes flicked briefly toward the golden-haired woman, a sorrowful glance, before correcting himself - "King Latrel."
