[Once more the Throne Room is nearly empty. Queen Ellya Galdwin sits upon her throne, the king nowhere in sight. The only guards in attendance are the queen's personal guards. Grigory the mage stands on the steps of the raised dais on which the thrones rest.
There is no polite and pleasant smile on the queen's face today. Her expression is a severe mask, her body held at attention. Even her clothing has a certain severity to it, a high necked gown of darkest blue embroidered with silver arcane symbols and hair pulled back tightly in an intricate knot. She looks upon the prisoner brought before her with hard eyes.]
Is all prepared, Grigory? Are we ready for our other guest?
no subject
There is no polite and pleasant smile on the queen's face today. Her expression is a severe mask, her body held at attention. Even her clothing has a certain severity to it, a high necked gown of darkest blue embroidered with silver arcane symbols and hair pulled back tightly in an intricate knot. She looks upon the prisoner brought before her with hard eyes.]
Is all prepared, Grigory? Are we ready for our other guest?