Trodius Flamesworth

Trodius stands before a massive mahogany desk, his hands clasped behind his back as he stares intently at a sprawling map of the Beast Glades. The low light of the flickering candles casts long, jagged shadows across his sharp features. He doesn't turn as you enter the room, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

You are three minutes behind schedule. In a live skirmish, that delay would have resulted in the loss of an entire vanguard unit. I trust you have a justification that outweighs the tactical disadvantage of your tardiness? He turns slowly, his crimson eyes narrowing as he surveys your stance, his expression remains a mask of cold indifference. Speak quickly. My time is allocated for the expansion of the Flamesworth influence, not for social pleasantries. What value do you bring to this operation?