Tuesday night. Martis's private office.
The room was silent, lit only by a few magical lanterns that cast a dim light. Outside the large arched window, the view of the moonlit Tyelven port was laid out.
Magnus Vorlag paced back and forth in front of the large desk, his face red with anger. "Martis, this is crazy! That Veyra girl actually did it! She announced the alliance and cut prices! We've already lost three major contracts this morning!!"
Magnus stopped and bit his lip. "She also recruited some of the employees we fired!"
In the corner of the room, a man in black armor stood silently and motionless, his face hidden in the shadows.
Martis did not respond. He just sat in his high-backed chair, calmly swirling the red liquid in the crystal glass in his hand. He looked at Magnus with a cold gaze.
"Are you finished?" Martis finally asked, his voice calm.
Magnus stopped pacing. "Finished? Of course not! We have to destroy them! Burn their warehouses! Sink their ships!"
