'Of course, he knows my name,' thought the Hybrid.
What was standing before him was not the image Skullius had pictured. All the reverence, the legendary subtext – everything he'd heard from anyone who knew even the mildest concept related to the Sovereign General – had sculpted a completely different visage.
The man standing before him, garbed in a flat-looking set of ceremonial robes with long, combed plumes of grey hair falling from his head to meet the even longer tufts of grey growing from his face, didn't look like a General at all. He looked like someone past their prime, even though he sported a vibrant glow to his wrinkled skin, which was ripe with crevices. His small, brown eyes were kind, but sharp, complementing his fatherly smile. Thyrgga might have never seen a single minute of war in his long, long life.
