Every step, even the most silent ones would echo into the vast expanse of this room.
The walls were covered in banners, in paintings depicting ancient military victories, with old weapons used by past heroes and champions, and pillars lined a long, exquisite carpet.
Walking upon it felt like walking to your execution, and in this case… The executioner was at the very end of it, elevated above the ground, on a pedestal demonstrating to all his undeniable superiority to any and all that dared to stand within this room, appearing like a blade that endlessly loomed over one's head, a stringent reminder that when in the same room as him, your life no longer belonged to you…
Vilitomus, however, had walked this path countless of times already, far too many times to even count, and with practised steps, reached near the pedestal, and elegantly put on knee against the ground, lowering his head until the crisp sound of armour shuffling ranged out into the vast room.
