The dark void of the sanctuary was agonizingly quiet. Red sat motionless on his throne, his dark eyes locked onto the holographic display floating in front of him.
The projection showed the tense face of Iron-Arbiter. The God of the Second Continent shifted uncomfortably under the Sovereign's unblinking stare. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and nervously adjusted his armored collar.
Red let the silence stretch. He enjoyed watching the older deity squirm.
"They should connect any minute," Iron-Arbiter finally muttered, unable to handle the crushing tension any longer. He offered a strained, apologetic smile. "The Third Continent is under severe pressure right now. The human Heralds are pushing their desert borders relentlessly, so they must be personally coordinating their front lines. I am sure they did not intend to keep you waiting, Sovereign."
Red leaned his cheek against his knuckles. 'Let him ramble,' he thought, keeping his expression completely neutral.
