The Empire of Reimia (3)

-- Mm-hmm, alright... -- Marey had regained his composure and the corresponding expression on his face, but he moved with sharp, jerky motions, betraying his nervous state. Grabbing the paper, he mechanically skimmed through it without reading it carefully and signed his name, the signature elongated and angular, like his figure, and sweeping, like his self-importance; after which he returned to his seat, trying to banish unnecessary thoughts from his mind: he would still have plenty of time for them later. Breathing exercises again helped to calm his nerves and breathing, but the blush did not leave Marey's cheeks. A fever began to bother him; the sorcerer could hear the blood pounding against the walls of the vessels in his brain.