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Chapter 411: Rhask, the Hollowborn. Meeting a God
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... se, a leftover trace from Lamair’s passing. The scent mingled oddly with the cleaner, warmer smells that usually drifted from the emperor’s quarters: brewed tea, polished wood, and the low ozone tang of powered glass. Lamair’s boots tapped on the polished floor, a steady, purposeful rhythm that cut through the softer noises of the palace at rest.
He paused at the door and knocked once, because even kings had to observe small courtesies. The door whooshed open on soft servos.
Insi ...
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