In the Demon Lands, in the Crimson Keep, recently the seat of the Crimson Woe herself, dust still lingers in the corners of the throne room where the last of the old regime's banners once hung, torn down in haste and replaced by the sigil of the Baroness of Greed.
Syraleth sits slouched on Vexena's throne, looking smaller in it than she probably intends to, one hand pressed gingerly to her still-bruised jaw.
The kitsune twins step into the throne room together, bow low in perfect unison, and announce that they bring a report on the progress of the crystal extraction.
Syraleth leans forward, wincing at the motion. "Get on with it."
One twin produces a small leather pouch from inside her coat, unfolds it with careful fingers, and holds it up toward the throne. Syraleth squints down at it and beckons her closer with an impatient flick of her hand.
