Lucius stood silently in the doorway to the Varris Estate ballroom. The smell of scorched flesh and blood violated Lucius' sensitive nostrils. In his hand was the head of Indarel Varris. The elf's eyes widened in realization of his own demise while his body slumped to the ground in a pile of flesh and clothes bereft of control. Lucius grimaced as he tossed Indarel's head toward the other nobles gathered at the back of the room.
Several women screamed in response to the wet thud of their lord suddenly rolling to a stop before them. Already cowering as far away from Lucius as they could, the nobles somehow squeezed together even tighter. However, he was not sure if they were afraid of him, or the warrior who actually killed Indarel.
"I was talking to him." Lucius growled, slowly turning to face the Haeddan elf. He resisted the tremble threatening to break into his voice as he hid his surprise. It wasn't until Indarel's death that Lucius even realized the man was present.
