A Forgotten, Looming Sword

"Maybe we should wait a bit l—"

Bang!

An orange fist slammed the twinkling stone of the long table and a shockwave of aura swept the meeting room.

"You cowardly bitch! How long are we going to wait?" An orange-skinned man in a black suit rose to his feet and pointed his finger at the speaker.

A small chatter ensued, with people seated across the table discussing the issue with renewed vigor.

"It's a mission they all submitted to His Majesty. Prince Merov displayed full confidence in fulfilling the objective. It's taking longer than expected but I do not doubt for a second he's going to succeed."

The speaker who started this all, a pale woman with ashen skin clad in black clothes clinging to her morbidly thin body, retorted with great conviction.