A warlord in gold with a red cape stands in front of Tramennis, delivering a report, while the rest of his unit crowd the bridge or mill about the riverbank talking. A soldier, in a silver breastplate, runs up with a message in hand. The Warlord at Tramennis right, with raven hair, has her left hand on her face.
Prince Tramennis: You saw it?
She turned him into a little puppet?
Jetstone Soldier: Highness?