He strode confidently through the halls of stone. He'd often heard the servants of the castle complain of the crushing atmosphere in Lord Vataal's quarters, and, to the commoner, such an attitude was to be expected. Emperor Vataal, despite his station showed little interest in refinement or art or the aesthetic quality of his surroundings. Indeed, the halls he now traversed were made of pure stone and lit by crude torches. A simple red rug ran along the floor, leading to a large set of oak double-doors, behind which were the Emperor's personal chambers. Upon approaching the door, he grabbed the handle and pushed open.
Luthor Vataal sat in a finely made, if not simple, leather chair, sitting near a bright, burning fireplace. Vataal's attitude always conveyed an intense disinterest with his surroundings, even in the fire of battle. Such an occasion was no difference. He sat with his chin in his hand, eyes peering into the fire. Upon noticing his entry, Luthor made no movement other than to briefly shift his eyes to get a look at who had entered his chambers. The man who had entered occupied a very important position with the ranks of Luthor's empire, allowing him to enter Luthor's chambers unannounced, such an audacious act would have likely cost a servant or guard their life. Luthor's cold blue eyes returned to the fire.
"The meetings will be starting tomorrow, I take it."
"Yes, my lord. We received word earlier today. The officials are pouring into Ostbaum as we speak. It is, as you expected."
At this, a uncharacteristically pleased smile crossed Luthor's regal features. "Yes. Just as was predicted. Most interesting...most interesting indeed."
The lively smile faded, however, and Luthor returned to his half-dead state. His expression shifted to its usual look of boredom and his eyes went back to the fire.
"There is no rush in mobilizing the armies. Let them have their meeting, they'll not make the first move."
His visitor arched an eyebrow at this.
"Are you certain? A preemptive strike would be far better, holding will give them time to set up their defenses and--"
"Do as I say." Luthor commanded, his voice cold and venomous, but still barely any louder than a whisper. His eyes fell back onto the fireplace. He said nothing more.
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His blue eyes gazed into the fireplace of the inn. It was something he'd always found comfort in, ever since he was a child. The flames danced and crackled with life, and the warmth felt good in the cool, Autumn night. They'd arrived in Ostbaum, and were now staying in one of the smaller inns on the outskirts of town. Carth's nose wrinkled in disgust when he considered the job he'd been given.
He was guarding a lowly lord traveling to this meeting of Kings. So lowly was he that he had been forced to pay for room in some dank inn outside of the aristocratic sections of the city. He was asleep upstairs. Carth meanwhile, sat downstairs in the main floor of the inn, finding no sleep. He gazed out a nearby window, seeing a crescent moon hanging proudly in a cloudless night sky. Tomorrow he'd show the lord to the Castle, and be free after that. It was something he couldn't wait for. This lord was particularly obnoxious, jabbering excitedly to his advisers and peers along the way about the opportunities for diplomacy and alliances, such blatant political opportunism disgusted the half-orc mercenary, though perhaps his way wasn't much better.
What was he doing anyway? He'd spent the last few years wandering aimlessly, taking jobs where he could find them and sleeping in whatever bed was open. Yet, at the same time, was there any justification in having some kind of plan, like this irritating lord? To be a man who dedicated himself wholly to achieving a single goal? How strange that also seemed. How frustrating it all was.
He looked back into the flames, allowing himself to escape those feelings of uncertainty that had plagued him lately. He made a note then and there to explore the city and escape his unease with some of Ostbaum's pleasures and comforts.
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