The great hall of the Warlord's estate was unrecognizable.
What had once been a grand chamber adorned with banners of Warlord Fabian's victories now bore the grim marks of its new lord. The tapestries had been torn down, replaced by dark sigils etched into the stone walls.
A blackened throne, jagged and cruel, sat at the center of the dais where Fabian's gilded chair of rule once stood. On this throne sat Lord Mors, Lucius, the new master of the estate, radiating an aura of overwhelming darkness.
"Haa… feels good."
He rested one elbow on the armrest, his fingers idly drumming against the carved bone that adorned his seat.
His purple gaze scanned the hall, where the remnants of the estate's staff and soldiers had been herded together, trembling before the might of their conqueror.
Beside him stood Lili, her delicate features betraying a twisted glee as she awaited her master's commands.
