"I'll be taking my leave now, sire."
Rens turned, taking his eyes from the plain intricacies of the wooden Krovic throne. It was blander than he remembered, and rather disappointing.
"Yes," he exhaled, setting his eyes on his grandfather's agent. "I suppose your duty here is complete. Your services are greatly appreciated, Lucius."
The man bowed deeply. Rens had been on the road to Rodakrov for a solid three days before Lucius caught up to them, a letter from the Imperial Palace within his possession. It didn't surprise him in the least that his grandfather had sanctioned this… travesty.
In all frankness, Rens did figure that perhaps death was better for Nikolai than living, let alone ruling. Rens' mother was taken by the Cattle Plague when the man was nearly eleven and one half. His father's sanity was taken only months following.
