Marquis Iramal stood respectfully before the man who had summoned him before the day had even started. Ignoring the mild throbbing in his head, he stood as still as possible, embarrassed to have been caught in his debauchery. He reeked of alcohol and looked nothing less than a beggar on the streets. An aristocratic beggar with his shabby attire and unkempt hair. His eyes were bloodshot and it was difficult to say he had a rough night.
"Your Grace, your servant is here." Irmal bowed before the man, keeping his eyes everywhere but on the man observing him with his sharp and shrewd eyes.
"Iramal, your habits and licentious behavior will lead you to your doom one day." The man sneered, not surprised by Iramal's state.
The kingdom of Sakaris knew what kind of a man Iramal was. He was nothin
