Tied roughly to a small chair, Juno wasn’t at all surprised when her captor drew back his hood to reveal the sunken eyes of a Denar mage. He stared silently, pitiliessly at her from what she could only presume was an interrogation table.

And Juno stared back.

“Juno… These are hard times. The supply of herbs we receive from your nation is no longer sufficient, and I’m afraid negotiation is no longer possible. Time is running out.”

The tall, gaunt figure stood, crimson robes swirling around his pale green form.

“The Denar Leadership has become somewhat reliant on the herbs. They are certainly most potent – the nation has begun to thrive after… So many years recovering from the Great War. And Juno, as we don’t have the advantage of such a powerful Court Jester – sorry, Magician…”

He hadn’t finished laughing at his joke before, with a loud crack!, he was sent sprawling across the small room. Juno stood over his unconscious form, hands glowing with magical residue:

“I’m Queen Juno to you.”