With every eye fixed upon him, Alpheo delivered on the spectacle he had promised.Each motion deliberate. Each word—measured to make the event as memorable as possible.
He strode over the remnants of the feast as if they were nothing more than ashes underfoot. Goblets crushed, golden platters kicked aside, roast meats flattened under the weight of his boots. The echoes of destruction rang across the high hall like a funeral bell.
Like a peacock splaying his feathers before a terrified court, Alpheo displayed the full, terrible majesty of his conquest—not with jewels, but with presence. With dominance.
He turned slowly to face the room, arms outstretched like a prophet preaching from a blood-stained altar. His cloak swirled at his heels, trailing crumbs and spilled wine. And when he spoke, his voice boomed—not loud, but resonant. Not shouted, but heard.
"All men must obey the law."
