A man quickly strode into the throne room, he was dressed lightly, wearing loose black slacks and a thin black shirt, the customary dress of messengers in the kingdom.

His footsteps echoes against the cold stone floors.

He came to a stop in front of the throne. It was a grand thing, made of polished black marble, it emanated a power over others.

The throne very much suited the man sitting it, the King. Large, imposing, cruel, cold, everyone feared the King.

Espically the messenger, he had never wanted to be a messenger in the 1st place, he just wanted a normal life, but the King had chosen him, and the Kings word was never to be questioned.

“Has the task been completed?” the King bellowed, his voice echoing in the room.

“Yes, they signed the treaty successfully my Lord.” The messenger said, struggling to keep his voice from shaking.

A wicked grin spread over the King’s face, soon, very soon, his plan would be completed, and he would conquer all.