Another week passed very slowly since nothing happened. That was quite good since Aion could focus on improving his classes in the dungeon, but the fact that the enemies didn't give up on the war bothered him a bit. While he was waiting for something to happen, he heard that some messengers were sent to his town… only the lords use them, so he could tell who sent those.
When Aion entered his office, he saw a young man in his thirties smiling, but he began to sweat after he had endured Aion's stare for a while.
"Good morning, my lord," The messenger said. "I am an envoy of the lord Heral Armand, and…"
"Scram, I won't say it again," Aion said. "Also, tell your lord that he will get what he deserves."
The messenger understood with just that and then left with his head down in a hurry. He didn't have anything with the problem between those two, but Aion had to make his point as clearly as possible.
