The chair was torn, dark stains etched deep into its surface.
"One, please take a seat."
The voice came from the corner of the room. A man in a black robe stood there, unmoving. One hadn't noticed him before.
Who is he? Why is he here? How did I not see him?
The questions raced through his mind.
As One sat down, invisible pressure slammed into his body. A spell locked his limbs in place, forcing him upright. He couldn't move. Couldn't even flinch.
Two more robed men entered the room, carrying a mass of scaly material. One couldn't tell what shape it had once been only that it was heavy and thick.
A robed man stepped up beside the noble.
"Sir Rainfed," he said, bowing slightly. "We were able to construct an arm using dragon skin and scales. But why is the test subject so young?"
Sir Rainfed didn't hesitate.
"He's the only slave in near-perfect condition," he replied. "The rest are already damaged."
The robed man nodded and turned back toward One, joining the others around the chair.
"Very well," he said calmly.
"Shall we begin?"