Seeing his son carrying a dispatch tube bearing the unmistakable wax seal of Ragnar's personal cipher, Leofric's suffocating political exhaustion evaporated in an instant.
The dull ache in his temples vanished, rapidly replaced by a joyful energy that straightened his spine.
"Out," Leofric commanded. "The audience is concluded, Lord Duncan. Take your silver, take your horse, and return to your King."
"But, my Lord Commander, what message shall I carry back?" the envoy pleaded, frantically motioning for his men to gather the heavy chests before the giant warrior changed his mind and simply seized them.
"Tell him the Iron Empire is busy," Leofric growled. "Now, clear the hall before I have the guards toss you out into the smog."
