"I am Geralt, Herald of Havoc of the Illusionist race," the man introduced himself, rising to his feet with a fluid grace that belied the danger he exuded. He walked slowly and steadily toward Edmond, his steps deliberate and unhurried, as if he had not a care in the world for Edmond's formidable strength, the gem on his forehead glowing brighter with each step, casting faint red light across the room.
"What are you doing here?" Edmond asked, his eyes narrowing as he studied Geralt closely, his mind racing to glean any insight into this unknown potential foe, the shadows around him coiling tighter in anticipation of conflict.
"Same thing you want: to bring this world under the authority of my lord," Geralt replied, his voice calm but laced with an undercurrent of menace, his dark eyes locking onto Edmond's with an intensity that seemed to pierce through his defenses.
