Граф Орлов
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"Good grief," the witch exhaled as they approached the castle. "Up close it's even more terrifying. It's like climbing into a monster's maw. If the gates drop on our heads now, there won't be anything left to bury."
Contrary to the witch's fears, the stone giant is motionless and silent, and its guards are polite and benevolent—or successfully pretend to be so in their careless bows and greetings. Through empty halls, still kept in order but already touched by decay, a lackey escorts them to the seneschal—a stately, sturdy old man with the face of someone who has sworn never to be surprised again.
"Greetings, worthy guest. My name is Kay Camille, and I am the seneschal of this stronghold," the old man beats out words learned decades ago, just as a soldier beats a march. "Messire Regent will receive you shortly for dinner, Lord Voldemar, and if it pleases you—you may spend your wait in prayer. Likewise, if you wish, you may entrust your slave to our supervision, should you feel that her company would hinder your communication with the regent."
The witch already wanted to speak up about this, but she was clever enough to remain silent. The word was left to Voldemar.
Contrary to the witch's fears, the stone giant is motionless and silent, and its guards are polite and benevolent—or successfully pretend to be so in their careless bows and greetings. Through empty halls, still kept in order but already touched by decay, a lackey escorts them to the seneschal—a stately, sturdy old man with the face of someone who has sworn never to be surprised again.
"Greetings, worthy guest. My name is Kay Camille, and I am the seneschal of this stronghold," the old man beats out words learned decades ago, just as a soldier beats a march. "Messire Regent will receive you shortly for dinner, Lord Voldemar, and if it pleases you—you may spend your wait in prayer. Likewise, if you wish, you may entrust your slave to our supervision, should you feel that her company would hinder your communication with the regent."
The witch already wanted to speak up about this, but she was clever enough to remain silent. The word was left to Voldemar.
E si sui vius, er mi grans benananza,
e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers
e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers