In a dimly lit ruin of a castle a young man sat on a chipped stone throne, grinning to himself and rubbing his hands eagerly.
“This time, they’re going to pay,” Cristoval chimed cheerfully. One hand moved to run through the fur of a gigantic rat with many eyes that sat beside him. “This plan is perfect. So perfect that it’s…it’s…"
His other hand went to his chin as he pouted in thought.
A young man in a dark wine red attire jerked his head up from what would have been a peaceful sleep. He cast a sullen eye at Cristoval, looking him over in the same way a cat agitated from a nap would.
Disregarding his blatant irritation Cristoval asked, "Sebastian, what would be a good word to describe my plan?”
“Facile,” said Sebastian.
Cristoval nodded his head in approval and smiled. Before he could retreat back into the glamorous daydreams of his plan his smile twitched.
“What does that mean?” he asked.