The queen wore a black dress with short sleeves and white frills at the edges, strings clinging a V-shaped hole together in the middle of her chest, reaching a few inches down, the sleeves short and exposing most of her arms, the skirt itself relatively short but wide as she sat down exposing nothing, it going right past her knees, but barely, as if to hide just this.
She had a toned complexion, her skin a bit burned but not too much, a bit caramel, with black hair, about three foot in length, adorned with what seemed to be a kind of crown made to function as a hairband with seven spikes like flames protruding from it forged of pure gold, making her head seem to resemble the sun itself.
Other than that she had a rather thin nose, the bridge of it slightly too wide, as if it had been broken once, but nothing to mock her about, not in the slightest, her black hair long and wavy, spreading out all over as she moved, thin strands showing off her weirdly thin figure, revealing she wore a corset, though it had not been tightened up all that much, barely causing visible change due to her rather childish form, perhaps she simply wore it because of some kind of insecurity, or perhaps because of something else, there was no real way for the man to figure it out right away as he was just staring at her and her burning golden eyes that seemed to make the surrounding area boil slightly, filled with pure power and golden radiance that came from only her.
Lastly, he noted, though it was more difficult because, right now, she was seated, that she was rather small at 5'1, looking a bit childish but still obviously being an adult from her demeanour, though he did find the contrast between the appearance and the acting of the girl even more unnerving.
So this was Crisis...
She, however, did not seem to look at him all that much, perhaps having seen him before as he had entered this place, simply opting to answer with a childish and bright voice, the tone of it rumbling through the entire hall, many feet wide, many feet high, many feet long, easily covering the few dozen feet still between them that either of the two could cover within less than a single instant.
"What might that favour consist of" she said, switching to a threatening tone at the end of the sentence, sounding almost like she was mocking the one that had just intruded her castle and come before a tyrant-rank being, come before Crisis herself, a name that had been given to her for good reason.
"In a few months a boy named Cades, or perhaps Leyk, or perhaps Avere, will come to your home, they are the same and yet different, a Sekaria marks them as well, so you will not miss them, but either way, I want for you to help them take down lord Vexxen along with some other forsaken lords that had already agreed." the man said calmly, still fidgeting with the fin of the sun-dial, hearing a relaxing clicking sound, but seemingly annoying the girl seated atop the throne, seemingly about sixteen years in age, an obvious lie.
"Why would I do that?" she mockingly said, though the man felt that there was some true uriosity hidden within that voice.
"I have two things for you in exchange." he replied, taking out a great roll of parchment from his pouch, various symbols engraved atop it, rolling it out and revealing the caricature of a great warrior, lean and full of powerful muscles, holding a great axe, wearing a loincloth made of a priest's robes, discarded and covered in dirt and what seemed to be blood, though it was hard to distinguish because the caricature was made only of black ink that did not seem to have entirely dried yet.
The man had a ponytail and a wide smile that seemed to stretch his facial muscles to the limit, the skin itself was burned caramel, similar to the girl, and there was a name written underneath in a writing that nobody in the forsaken realm, aside from a select few, knew the meaning of when it came to the symbols it consisted of.
There was a triangle near the end of it, there was a D with two more lines, there was a H with one more line, and many more, but the meaning was clear, the name and the title, thought he intention of that title seemed almost ironic, was saint Lawrence.
"A parchment?" the girl asked, seemingly hesitant to write it off as just that.
"The parchment of the dead, a favoured woven between, it is a rare item as you should know..." the man replied, sounding slightly arrogant, but more so as if he was greatly proud of what he had just gotten in his hands, grabbing tightly, but slily revealing there were many other such parchments in his back that seemed to extend infinitely.
"And what is entailed in that parchment?" she asked after a bit.
"As you know the parchment of the dead is quite the great item, offering the ability to call back the depicted person from the, well, dead through a contract they signed, an agreement, often made after they died and went to one of the various afterlives." he began.
"I know, you don't have to lecture me on that basic sh#t." the girl interrupted, obviously quite agitated and excited at the prospect, indirectly giving the man leverage, not that he had needed that with what he was planning to offer in addition to that.
"It is rarely given and even more rarely created, and this is one of the highest quality, created by a pillar, perhaps even one of the great ones..." he took a break, enhancing the tension of the trade even further.
"This one entails the life of Saint Lawrence, a tyrant-rank, though a bit weaker than you, someone who was burned alive in revenge by another group serving a lesser god of fire, someone that, in his dying moments, said to turn him over to the other side because he had already been roasted enough on one, someone who has many secrets and many pasts, someone who would be willing to work with you and be your partner, by your side, in return for your help with this, and obviously, him being revived." he took a pause.
"But I must ask you to revert to your true age for now." he asked abruptly
"Why?" the girl asked slily
"I feel you should show some respect to the dead, shouldn't you?" he mocked slightly, though the girl agreed greatly with that sentiment and had already been planning to do that, quickly returning to her true age.
Her height did not change, nor did much about her body, she had always been childish after all, but now, she had the face of a twenty-year old woman, much better and much more fitting with the demeanour she brought forth, though it was, nevertheless, still a great bit unsettling, and with her murmuring a bit showing her annoyance.