Tarrik walked down the corridor and stopped at the heavy wooden door. He knocked once, waited for the muffled voice from inside, then pushed it open.
Zareth did not look up immediately. He was seated behind a large wooden desk covered with scrolls, maps, and sealed letters. His quill was in his hand, and he was marking something on the document with short, precise strokes.
Tarrik stopped a few feet from the desk, standing at attention. "My lord, a raven arrived from the elves." He said.
Zareth's hand paused. "The Elves," He said, the words carrying a weight of annoyance.
"Yes, my lord."
Zareth set the quill down carefully on its rest and looked up. An expression of irritation crossed his features.
"They are unreasonable. Every message comes with another demand. They are trying to milk the situation for all it's worth. Their requests for training Rowena for her power have been excessive. They know I have no other options."
