Chapter 31

As Ivan neared the end of the hall, which was entirely too expansive for his tastes, a dark form came into focus. He was seated in what could have only been described as a throne, a symbolic representation of the lord’s usurping of the castle’s previous owner hundreds of years ago. The lord’s arms were folded across his chest, and his pale blue eyes glared at Ivan with annoyance and, worse still, disappointment. Ivan swallowed hard as he knelt at his lord’s feet.

“I send you to procure one man, one fucking mortalman, and you come back in incoherent hysterics. I dare say a dog could do better,” the lord growled at Ivan. His voice was coarse and dry, like a ball of crumpled paper rubbed over a rock.

Ivan cringed at the sound.

“I have a mind to chain you up in the dungeon where you can rot the rest of your days away.”