Rychard appeared back within a familiar space, his expression the mark of coldness. Every one of his features seemed to have been etched out of a slab of marble, remaining unmoving for several moments past what was natural.
It was only after half of an hour passed that he took his first breath, expelling all of the rage that had built up within him. Looking down at the map piece in his hand, he stored it within a hidden spatial compartment in his belt, his expression returning to a normal baseline as though nothing had happened.
After another deep breath, he steadied himself completely.
There were still a few years left. He already had a lead amongst all the other potential heirs and this would have just placed him far above them. But, since things had ended like this, he would have to find another way to end this competition for good.
