<b><span style="color: Navy">"I would expect nothing less. It is why I saw no reason for subterfuge in our approach. You set this into motion when you foolishly accepted the binding that those foolish adventurer's proposed."</span></b><br/><br/>Beneath his helm a small smile crossed his pale features. He reached to his side and drew forth sword of impressive length, its single edged blade curving ever so slightly in a combination of finesse and power. The bright, silvery blade contrasted sharply with the black metal of the hilt and grip. All along its length was sylvan script: a weapon given to him in a previous life as a champion of the Winter court. Cold and sharp, just as the dark fey were. Dark syllables tumbled from his lips and he felt power course through his veins, a cool chill running through his blood. He held the blade in one hand and extended the other to the queen and her two guardians, beckoning them forward with mocking gesture.<br/><br/><b><span style="color: Navy">"Come, then, summer children. Face your fate with dignity. Or submit and hope that some part of my soul still knows mercy."</span></b><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>