"So…"
The man seated there rested his chin upon one hand.
"This is the one for whom that woman wishes to create a Fifteenth Throne?"
His words echoed softly across the hall.
The moment they ended…
Several pairs of eyes quietly shifted toward Razeal again.
Razeal, who had been silently standing before the World Council without saying a single word, slowly turned his head toward the voice that had spoken. His crimson eyes calmly settled upon the man seated upon the throne before studying him without hurry.
The man looked to be somewhere in his mid-forties. He possessed a broad, powerful build that somehow gave the impression of someone who had spent his entire life upon battlefields rather than inside palaces. Heavy dark-colored armor completely covered his body from shoulders to boots. It was not the kind of armor polished every day by servants to shine before nobles.
