Snippet #2717573

Betan grimised at the sight of speaking with a full mouth, but beared it. His narrowed eyes looked at the man, who gave his name as Bastion Trent. "Well, it would be impolite for me to not introduce myself. I am Sir Betan Alwingson, the deiciever. And next in line to become the lord of the east." He smirked as he bowed with proper etiquette. He stood straight, "Barbarian, why are you looking at me with such... Viscious eyes? I see no way that I have harmed you."

Betan turned around with inhuman speed. The sound of an orchestra could be heard from the other room. His sapphire eyes sharpened, to an extent that his pupils seemed to form slits. "What in the seen hells is going on in this place." He muttered from under his breath. He put his arms behind his back and began to walk to the door, it stopped as he took two steps. The sixteen year old bit his lip and rejoined the table. He took a breath and sat down, pulling out a scroll from his scabbard, He groaned, "I guess the rumor was true after all." The scroll was a simple one, addressed to him by the lord of the north, who was the only one to warn him about this place. "We'd better get moving, according to the rumor, twenty or so years ago, a group of civilians, nobles, knights and even some royalty went missing after recieving a letter fro ma man calling himself 'the baron'. Of course, up until now, it was thought to be a whole piece of malarkey. However, whoever this man is, has some power of his own." He took a breath and placed the scroll back in his scabbard.