In the Royal Palace of Shersdonia, the King set down his daily reports with a smile.
The last of the wandering Dagos Royals was dead at the hands of the Butcher of Wistover. Things were coming along very well, and it was almost time to move on to the next phase of his plan.
"When the Cygnia throne requests an envoy, prepare one. Nothing less than a Duke, but no undead.
Oh, and send some of the debutantes as well. Wistover is a wonderful place for a young Techno Witch or a budding Necromancer to grow into her own. They won't lose out, marrying one of the lower Nobles there." He informed his advisor, his voice a low rasp that chilled the blood.
"Yes, your highness. We will see that it is done."
Dominic looked up from his work as he felt a chill run down his back. Was someone plotting against him?
Silly question, of course someone was. He just didn't know who.
Alexis set her head on his shoulder as she read the reports over his shoulder.
