Emperor Yanyu Du Shi Wang sat upon his throne like a statue carved from living stone. His ceremonial robes, deep blue silk embroidered with golden dragons, could not entirely conceal the armor beneath.
His eyes held the weight of a man who had been making life and death decisions for weeks without respite, each choice carving deeper lines into his weathered face.
Court officials stood around the throne in rigid formations, their silk garments a stark contrast to Grim's unmistakable stench of dried blood that clung to his clothing.
The collection of elven ears at his belt drew horrified stares and poorly concealed expressions of disgust from the assembled nobility.
Let them smell the reality of war while they stood in their perfumed safety.
"Lord Grim van Ambrose," the emperor's voice carried clearly through the vast chamber, each word measured and deliberate. "Your reputation precedes you. Though I confess, the reports of your activities seemed too extraordinary to believe."
