The hall was an oppressive expanse of cold metal and flickering shadows. It was vast, yet purposefully empty, devoid of tables, chairs, or any signs of comfort.
A single, jagged throne of dark bronze sat at the far end, connected to the massive entrance by a long, heavy carpet of woven bronze thread that shimmered like dried blood in the candlelight.
The boy who entered did not walk; he marched with a stiff, practised terror. The moment he reached the centre of the hall, he collapsed to his knees, his forehead nearly touching the metallic floor.
Ganin, the rising star of the Bronze Lizard clan's younger generation, was trembling. The tremors had started the moment the summons reached his quarters, and they had only intensified as he inhaled the scent of ozone and ancient copper that permeated the Patriarch's sanctum.
"Ganin... has that damn porter kid attended classes with you yet?"
