Fugitive.

Back in Aegremonth, the Palace was blowing hot and steam because Briceus would not sit down on his rage. No. Not when it involved her. His person. He was feeling bitter. Vulnerable. Tried. Most importantly, he needed to fish out the culprits and break their very bones before their faces. 

-"Grrrr..." He grunted with hate, shifting his features into a scowl. 24 hours without Elizabeth and he could no longer stay still.

"Your Majesty." Ezekiel called, announcing his arrival to his Lord's side. His private chamber.

Briceus twirled his head to the side, not necessarily looking at Zeke because he would much rather settle his eys on the blankness of the wall in his room than look Zeke straight in the eyes and hear him spit out a stupid report. He wasn't going to bring himself to hurt him, hence he'd decided on this.

"Speak!" Briceus spoke from the garrison of his feeling of impatience.