Kapaxilin was displeased.
Very displeased.
Yet, she still answered the call.
A figure appeared in the room, draped in a white robe edged with gold, his face stern and clean-shaven, his gaze so penetrating it seemed he could see into one's soul.
The current Pope, Innocent's holographic projection.
"Miss Kapaxilin," he nodded to Kapaxilin, then turned to Aske, "Lord Aske, we meet again."
"What do you want, Your Majesty?" Kapaxilin asked displeasingly.
"I am here to mediate," Innocent replied.
"We aren't quarreling," Kapaxilin frowned.
"If I hadn't come, there would soon be one," Innocent said. "And it wouldn't just be a quarrel, but a fight."
Kapaxilin clapped her hands, and the "Golden Skulls" mercenaries previously hidden outside quickly dispersed.
