YEAR ONE
"Sir…" A man spoke. He was the youngest in the room but he looked mid-aged. He had dark skin and had slight wrinkles near his mouth. His hair was thinning at the center of his head like a bullseye. He had a thin nose that tipped upwards. His eyes were almost black. He didn't look friendly.
"Yes?" Another much older man spoke from the back of the room, voice gravely. His face was covered by a curtain of made of shadow. There was a certain terrifying power radiating off of him. He sat on a throne-like chair with complicated carvings. They seemed to have people. The ones on the top of the throne were holding thin sticks. The ones on the bottom looked dirty and mangled.
The mid-aged man looked hesitant. It seemed he didn't want to deliver news he had. "The girl- Naliha's offspring…" He uttered.
The bits of the old man's face you could see distorted. "What about her?" He spat.
The other man's words were quick. "I don't like to mention her but- we cannot forget about her! She must almost schooling age by now… I know my children are…" He said.
"Alastair!" The old man called out.
A man- younger than the powerful man but older than the other scrambled out of a door. "Yes, sir?" He said, bowing his head. He had the same hair pattern as the young man and looked somewhat like him.
"Find the filth Naliha gave birth to." He ordered. The name 'Naliha' seemed to be forced out of his mouth like vomit.
The man- allegedly Alastair, seemed to have a face of sickness in reaction to the name. "I have no idea where she went. She wasn't there when I took care of her parents." He said.
The man rose from the chair. His face was pale, almost a dusty gray. His eyes were small and beady. His lips barely existed. "I said… Find her." The man repeated in a low tone.
"Of course, sir." Alastair corrected himself.
"Before she turns sixteen."
"Yes, sir."
"Dead would be the best way to bring her to me."
Alastair looked at his master grimly.
"Of course."