Fromir
Fromir had been more than pleased by the discovery on Bainbridge. General Norsen had completed his task as instructed, and Fromir had watched the spectacle from his own mage glass safely within his private chambers. Even from Seattle, the power that had bloomed over Bainbridge Island looked like a nuclear explosion. The light, even from such a distance, was blinding to anyone with so much as trace amounts of magic in their system. There had been no survivors of the attack of course, that was to be expected. To obtain great power would require great losses, and the measly seven lower mages, if he couldn't even call them that, weren't worth their salt anyway. They would've been a nuisance and never would've been allowed to set foot within formal ranks, so as far as Fromir was concern
