Full of tension and fear.

Much like a King, Larkin sat high upon his throne. He leaned against the back of his seat, head fallen forward and thinking, eyes downcast. His shifted for a moment, settling his rump into possibly the most comfortable position on the velvet cushion. His elbows rested on the silver armrests that extended far out in front of him. The chair, at first glance, seemed to be made for a giant, simply decorated in silver and crimson. And Larkin, a mere child in the center of it, drinking his wine.

The room was filled with nervous chattering, many people and many servants. The people, being anyone aside from the maids and slaves. They stood around the steps down below from Larkin's throne, careful to not let their gossip be heard by Larkin. Because if anything displeasing caught his ear, they knew he was bound to become angry. Especially when he was waiting, because he hated waiting.

Waiting for the guards to return Miraye to him. The castle was so large, and so many rooms unoccupied and gathering dust that they could have been anywhere and it would have taken everyone searching the entire place to find them. Larkin wanted Miraye back immediately, now, in his hands. Every moment he was hit with a different scenario - Miraye destroying his beautiful city, Miraye destroying the other cities, Miraye making demands for Tic, Miraye making demands for Larkin's death. With her power, and a little convincing the people of Galesing, she could have anything she wanted. He should not have let her run.

Finally, three guards came into the gigantic room. Everyone shut up instantly, and Lark straightened in his chair, taking a ridiculously long sip from his wine.

One of the men came forth, the people making way for him. He stopped at the first step, and dropped to one knee. The news he was about to give Larkin would surely cost him his life. Larkin did not like bad news, and also did not take well to the bearers of bad news. The man rethought his moves, and went down on both knees and leaned forward on his hands. His head dropped and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself not to break down in front of these people.

"She escaped," he managed, barely keeping his voice decent, "And she killed eleven of our men." Aside from a few quick intakes of breath, everything was silent. For a long time. Finally, the familiar sound of creaking leather and gentle footsteps sounded. Larkin arose from his seat and walked down the three steps to the bottom one. He handed his wine to a servant girl, who retreated as quickly as she could without spilling it.

"This will not be recorded as an escape," Larkin said first, casting a long, warning glance to scribes, who slowed the movement of their pens. Then, "but a failure on this man's part to do as he was told." Larkin lifted his foot and placed it on the man's shoulder, and he whimpered loudly, bursting out with a protest.

"It wasn't me, sire, your majest-"

Larkin shoved the man with his foot, and he went rolling across the carpeted floor. Larkin followed him, the crowd parting farther back. He continued his explanation of the previous events, whilst shoving his foot into the guard's face. His muffled screams did not prevent Larkin from being heard, "And in my absence during this event, I was unable to give guidance."

Hands were covering mouths, everyone was doing their best not to watch, and at the same time not turn away from the Shrike. He would have been insulted, and furthered the pain on those below him. His foot pressed down harder, a loud crunch heard and the screams rising in pitch.

Casually, unaware of how shocked and frightened those around him were, Larkin removed his foot and turned, returning to his chair. The servant girl gave him a new, fresh glass of chilled wine. "Any word from the governors of my invitation?" He quickly changed the subject, whilst the two other Guardians took the screaming and bleeding man away. His face would never be the same.

It took a moment for everyone to gather themselves, but the one of the councilmen came forth and flipped through a booklet of papers, "Word from Sir Jugile, Semeno, and Sir Kanth briefly state that they greatly anticipate the day." he said.

Larkin nodded, pleased enough. He stood once again, emptying the remainder of wine in his glass, handed it aside the the servant girl and cleared his throat, "This update is closed."

Everyone dropped to one knee as Larkin exited the room, and went to check on Tic. Something made him feel that he should not leave the boy alone.