I somehow imagine though that Emhyr would wear something simple and not bombastic. I think he's the kind of ruler who can emanate regalness and grandeur, and impose respect and intimidation just by the way he stands and acts. ›››
'I never deceive anyone, I never give anyone false illusions,' continued the man. 'So let it be known that,
naturally, the prospect of saving your neck from the executioner's axe exists only if you do not make a mistake this time. Your chances of a full pardon are small. Your chances of my forgiving and forgetting
are . . . nonexistent.'
The young knight in the black armour did not flinch this time either, but Coehoorn detected the flash in his
eyes. He doesn't believe him, he thought. He doesn't believe him and is deluding himself. He is making a great mistake.
'I command your full attention,' continued the man behind the table. 'Yours, too, Coehoorn, because the
orders I am about to give concern you too. They come in a moment, for I have to give some thought to
their substance and delivery.'
Marshal Menno Coehoorn, Governor of the Province of Cintra and future Commander-in-Chief of the Dol Angra army, lifted his head and stood to attention, his hand on the pommel of his sword. The same attitude was assumed by the knight in black armour with the bird-of-prey-winged helmet. They both waited. In silence. Patiently. The way one should wait for orders, the substance and presentation of which were being pondered by the Emperor of Nilfgaard, Emhyr var Emreis, Deithwen Addan yn Carn aep Morvudd, the White Flame Dancing on the Grave-Mounds of Enemies.