The Grand Hall felt like a trap that had finally snapped shut. The Chancellor looked around, and his heart began to sink. At the center of the room stood Arkan, the god of war himself, in dark steel armor. Behind him, the Black Wing troops were a wall that no rebel could break. The Chancellor saw his own men were already dropping their weapons, realizing that their "victory" had been a lie fed to them by the Khan.
The Chancellor's face turned as white as a ghost with trembling fingers as he finally realized the situation he was in. He had been played like a fool.
"No... it's impossible. You collapsed! The poison... in your armor..."
Arkan stepped fully into the light, his black armor reflecting the midday sun like a dark mirror. He wore a grim, terrifying smile, the smile of a predator that had let its prey think it was winning.
"I have plenty of lives, you old traitor," Arkan's voice rumbled, echoing against the high ceiling. "You think mere tiny needles could touch me?"
