The large doors of Luvengart's Fort burst open and Baron Eutheo trodded inside, his coat falling down his shoulders. He handed the garment to a guard standing by the door and marched to his throne, muttering something to himself.
"How was the travel, Lord Eutheo?" his adviser, a leaning old man named Shedrock, asked as Eutheo sauntered past him.
"What do you think, Shedrock?" Eutheo scoffed. "The whole thing was a spectacle. The Kings liked to pretend otherwise, but we could all see it. They loathe each other."
"They are adversaries," Shedrock said. "It is only natural."
Eutheo paused by his throne, then let out a silent laugh. "I suppose you are right. Such is the way of Kingdoms. Such is the way of realms."
He thought about it for a moment, then decided, nevertheless, to relay his irritation. "I only find it deceptive to present such a false image to us. Makes me feel they see us as monkeys, controlled by pictures, easy to deceive."
