"It's cold here. Soon it will all turn to ruins and ashes. These bugs have no idea what awaits them in a couple of days," he thought contentedly as his leather boots tread silently on the light-colored stone of the palace. The demon was anticipating the destruction, fear and death that would soon reign in this kingdom of miserable mortals.
Bergil and the demon entered the huge, bluish-lit hall with impossibly high ceilings and large, beautifully carved stone windows of the throne room, the pride of the palace. King Derek, seated on a large, elegantly carved white stone throne, awaited the arrival of a strange, unexpected visitor who was so foolish and arrogant that he demanded to meet him as if Derek were not the king of a great, rich state, but only the headman of a small village. Despite his title, the king did not wear his simple iron crown, for he did not consider the insolent demon worthy of the honor of seeing him in the full splendor of his royalty. The king was dressed in a black, tight-fitting surtoute, brown leather pants, and tall black boots. Derek was twenty-nine years old and had been in power for a long time, but this man had not fallen slave to gold brocade, jewels, and luxury. Derek had not a shred of fear in his heart for the representative of the demon race, but in order not to make his best friend worry for his safety, he had at hand his broad sword, which he had skillfully wielded since the days of his youth.
– Derek Merkswerd! King of Kaldwind! – slowly approached the throne, the demon said loudly, and his voice echoed in the monumental high vaults.
– I told you not to open your mouth! – Bergil threw angrily at him and drew his sword from its sheath: he was tormented by his distrust of this arrogant demon.
– I was sent to you by my king, the Lord of the mighty Flammehav Lamar! – ignoring the shouting of his guide, the demon continued his speech.
– How dare you address His Majesty in the first name? – Bergil roared, but Derek only grinned at the insolence and made a hand sign to his friend to keep his temper down.
– King Lamar is interested in my humble person? – Derek laughed softly. – What have I done to deserve this honor?
– Soon your people will be slaughtered, your cities will be reduced to ashes, and your despicable kingdom will have no fertile land left, not even ruins, and its memory will be wiped from the face of Wakkerland! – The envoy spoke in a contemptuous, but even somewhat solemn tone, moving closer and closer to the throne of the king.