Lucius stood at the threshold of the chamber, the heavy oaken door towering before him like a final challenge. The banners of Arduoronaven had once hung proudly above it—red and gold, he had been there when it was torn down. Replaced with nothing. Now, however, that Orymus was back into ruling the city it was put back on.
Still the image of the banner being torn down and burnt remained still in his head..
What was a lion without its teeth? Without its pride?
This was the room of the new false lord of Arduoronaven. Orymus. The son of a butchered house, now draped in stolen silk and illusions of authority. Lucius had been summoned here, but it was not he who would be on trial.
No, the gods had turned their faces toward him. And they were smiling.
