The collection of varying faces was enough to disorient Rowan, their pedigree told through the extravagant, bright colors of their garments and the many silvers embroidery lacing their wrists, shoulders, and necks.
Amongst them, some stood taller than others, but all held within them influence and bled into even the atmospheric aether. An interesting aspect, but not one that Rowan could focus on.
"Pope Tharos, we've already discussed the untimeliness of this announcement. I order--"
"You order nothing of me, Viral. I suggest that you step aside, unless you wish only for divine retribution. Need I remind you the debt that burdens your family?"
With a simple wave of the Pope's hand, the king submitted to his decree, stepping back to allow him the imaginary podium.
