Soon the room was filled with eleven leaders or their heirs one after another. A heavy silence draped the room. No one spoke. Not even King Ambrose, who had called for the Frakis. Aside, from Loren and Ambrose no one knew why this Frakis was called, but, nevertheless it made everyone uncomfortable. Everyone knew, the Frakis was never a good sign. It was a power struggle and Ambrose was the hungriest of the lions that stood on their glistening bejeweled thrones.
Loren looked at Ambrose. Trying to find traces of the man he once was. Had anyone told Loren five years ago that Ambrose was cruel Loren would have laughed at the notion. Ambrose shone brighter than the sun once. He was its essence in itself. And then he ascended the throne. Ascended with the blood of his father dripping down his lips, taking with the kindness that once was Ambrose.
