The Gathering Storm (3)

Emperor Runedral was a man of striking features. His sharp blue eyes glimmered with authority, his shoulder-length jet black hair complemented the short beard.

Unlike most people in his position, he wasn't fat or clumsy, but was tall and broad-shouldered. Draped in regal robes that depicted a dragon.

His skin was smooth but held the faint lines of someone who had seen countless battles. It wasn't a surprise, considering how thin his army was stretched across the borders.

But he was not alone.

A second figure stood beside him.

"It is an honor," the man said, "to finally meet my disciple's son."

Aaran slowly lifted his head, his eyes locking onto the figure beside the Emperor.

The piercing eyes stared back at him from behind a metallic mask. Although it was impossible to see his expression, Aaran knew he was smiling.

Meanwhile, Aaran said nothing. He simply held the high priest's gaze. But deep inside, he, too, was smiling.