A few hours passed within the room with Khor merely staring at the nothingness of it all. He noticed two more figures entering the room; the magical nausea increased within the vicinity. Just when Khor thought that whatever they were called for would be explain, another figure entered the room. She was a woman... with a strange accent. In fact, if Khor had an accent contest, this woman would win first prize. The summoner rolled his eyes as if they were of any use whilst he continued to examine the things around him with his hands.

Suddenly, the monarchs began to speak. Finally! The dilly-dollying was driving him insane from all the waiting. He could have been back into the Aether or into the forest so he could shackle more and more creatures to his side... but no, he just had to be called for some idiotic meeting. Of course, he had never ventured too far from the forest where he resides in... Civilization was getting too chaotic for Khor's taste. Besides, Khor knew he could protect his territory; he was more than capable of doing so. It's quite ironic that the ones who were powerful enough to hold their own never stayed too long in a 'civilized' location, most of these powerful mages ventured outside, and lived elsewhere. This would mean that all of them in this room, aside from the monarchs and their lackeys, held not a single shred of obligation to help this blasted kingdom. Rewards? Khor didn't them. Title? What would a title do in the harsh world of the forest? No. Khor didn't find any value in any of those rewards, in fact, he felt annoyed that the monarchs were even offering it to them, as if they were desperate for titles and rewards. They were mages, and that status alone is reward enough.

"Yer gettin' willy-nilly, aren't you, Chair-boy? It been sometime when a crown-head be beggin' for help-- askin' help from some 'lil o' strangers." Khor mumbled, his eyes wildly rolling around. "Did 'cha lose yer precious 'wee mages to the point where ye be havin' no other choice but to ask total strangers fer help? Can't that magical lamp help ye no more?" Khor chuckled, pointing at the source of such oozing magical energies (Ophelia).

Khor lowered his hand as he chuckled softly, his eyes focusing on the monarchs as if he could see.

"Lil' old me ain't gotta fight-- because of ye be threatin' my land when 'dis shadows be rampagin'. 'Dat ain't nice. 'Im more than capable of defendin' mah own territory, ya hear, magic lamp? But then again, when ye chair-sitters would be losin' yer lands, where would ye be goin'? To the forests? Hah! No." Khor mumbled on and on without a care for the world. "I'm only gonna be fightin' because I don't want none of ya to set foot on my hood."

The summoner laughed lightly, then he cleared his throat. "Still... Ye be worried of your men who might betray ya, crown-kid. But, ye called for complete strangers, who be havin' no obligation to yer kingdom, to help ya. What then be the difference between them and us? The world that be outside of your chair, Chair-boy, is dark. Ye might have failed to see 'dat. It be time to get up and see beyond yer kingdom, rather than lettin' your lackeys and lassies do the dirty deed fer ya." Khor tilted his head as he grabbed the amulet; his nimble fingers running through the prized jewel of authority.