Ralasizon nodded, as was normal when accepting guests. However, his eyes held no such ideas as 'this is a guest'. No, there contempt began to brew and Ralasizon responded. And it showed as he finally spoke his words to the girl.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">"Yes, I assume it was quite a shock to bear witness to normal people learning, instead of virgin sacrifices and sordid affairs visited upon by daemons,"</span>Ralasizon said to Araminia, before simply turning back to Aronmar, as if what he said was just a casual part of conversation.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">"How was your trip, old friend?"</span>The two quickly began to converse. About the trip, about a business deal Aronmar was hoping to establish before he left, about how he just missed a couple of his friends from his homeland. To Araminia, it would surely look as if the pair of them were ignoring her. But in actuality, Ralasizon was restraining himself. There was nothing more he wanted to do than to make sure she knew what sort of position she was in. His only restraints were that she was kept fed, in good health, and clothed. The keyword was kept. There was nothing stopping him from using her to replenish his Red Mist. There was nothing stopping him from repaying the debt a hundredfold, so long as she was healed after. There was nothing keeping him from humiliating her. But Ralasizon knew Aronmar's disposition. The Forgemaster, though vengeful in his own right, was hesitant when Ralasizon told him the demands Aronmar would bring up to the courts in Ralasizon's name. He would spare his apprentice from the details and the sight when possible.<br/><br/>But, eventually, the small talk ended and Aronmar bowed once more to Ralasizon before turning to Araminia.<i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">"Though travel with you was pleasant, I am afraid I must say farewell, Lady Araminia," </span></i>Aronmar's rumble said.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000"><i>"My apprentices have been without their master for too long, and I wish to realign my forge back to the standard it was held at nearly a decade ago."</i></span>Giving Araminia a slight bow, Aronmar left the room, closing the doors behind him as he did so. Now, there was only Ralasizon and Araminia in the room, alone. The Red Mist Mage's gaze fell onto the girl, harsh and unforgiving. His gaze seemed to bore into her very being as he pondered what should come to pass first. After only a moment, Ralasizon turned, beginning to talk as he walked back to his desk.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">"Let me make this abundantly clear for you, girl,"</span>Ralasizon said, walking to the front of his desk.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">"While magic in and of itself is not a horrid thing, including those schools that were outside of the smatterings that were allowed within your borders, your father was not an idiot in choosing the face of evil to drive his people forward."</span><br/><br/>Ralasizon reached the front of his desk, gingerly reaching over and closing the book. The Red Mist seeped out of his sleeve as he did so, snaking past the book and going to reach for something underneath the desk.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">"I have done many things in my life. Some good..."</span>There is a loud thud as something lands on the desk in front of Ralasizon and out of Araminia's sight.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">"Most not. I am not a kind man, Lady Lytton."</span>The sound of a metal clasp being opened accompanied the appropriate movements of Ralasizon's shoulders.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">"And your father has made an enemy older than his kingdom itself."</span><br/><br/>Immediately, Red Mist appears around Araminia. It roils violently at her, before it begins to act. The Red Mist around her legs latch on to it, feeling as hard as steel. The Red Mist encases her legs from the thigh down, leaving her ass and anything above untouched, effectively rooting her to the center of this grand, dreamlike study. The Mist around her legs begin to rise, bringing her a few inches off of the floor. The reason why would become apparent soon. Finally, Mist began to form around her wrist, feeling like heavy manacles as they held her. These began to move, dragging her arms through the air until they were stretched above her at forty-five degree angles, causing her to form a Y with her body. It was at this point that Ralasizon turned around, an ornate and pristine carving knife in his hands.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000"> "And by using you to feed the Mist for <i>my</i> master, I shall recoup some of what I lost."</span>