The clock struck 10:30 A.M. and a wary hush fell over the crowd of upperclassman. Sebastian stood at the head of the crowd with Fynn and their father, who sat at his throne with his staff in hand.
Looking at each face in the crowd, the King turned to the role-caller and asked, “All present?”
“Yes, King Nicholas,” the role-caller said, his face pale with fear. The King hardly ever spoke to people like him, and when he did, it usually wasn’t for anything good. Nicholas was known as a cruel Warlord; he didn’t care about the people of his realm, so long as what he wanted done got done as fast as possible. “Everyone is here.”
“Good,” Nicholas said roughly, turning back to his two sons. “I’m sure that you’ve remembered your reports?”
Sebastian nodded. “We have our reports right here, father,” he mumbled, not looking at the King as he produced an envelope from inside his cloak and handed it to him. He had no longing to look at the scarred, sinister face of his father.
“We found her,” Fynn added, “just like you asked us to.”
“Good,” his father said, snatching it from his grasp and opening it quickly. “I wouldn’t have taken any enjoyment from having to whip you both.”