He motioned his neck, gazing at the man who stood directly beside him, passively radiating mana so hot that Maniel's skin seemed to cry out in fear.
8th-circle.
The man's arms were folded in front of his chest. His dark coat seemed to flutter. His eyes were grim and gray. And his dark hair stuck out of his scalp like an overgrown bush, tangling allover his forehead.
His piercing gray gaze was fixed ahead, ignoring Maniel.
Maniel felt his breathing seize, heart freeze. The overwhelming cold spreading to his stomach.
He knew today was going to be a bad day.
"Duke Belognia?"
When had the man even come? His presence had not been announced.
Hearing Maniel, the Duke unfolded his arms, regarding the Marquis.
"Marquis Silvester."
They both nodded to each other.
This Duke had always scared Maniel, even more so than the other three. Not even because he was at the epitome of magic, 8th-circle, but because his bearing and every thing about him whispered the word 'threat' to Maniel.
