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"Aah, it really is all coming together, don't you think?" walking up to a balcony, carved directly from dark stone, pulsating with a variety of distinct strengths, laying one skeletal hand on the balustrade, the other grasping upon a staff of pure dark iron, deeply infused a pure energy of darkness, with wished to pour out, yet simply held back by the identity of its owner.

"Your majesty, it is always coming together recently, huh?" with both hands behind his back, Nosferatu moved up to his king's side, his head as bald as usual, his wardrobe, much like that of pretty much all undeads, had seen an upgrade after the victory, albeit against his will.

The vampire lord was not a fan of excessive decorations and additional colours on his dusty coat, but he had to relent, being the strongest gravelord did not shield against the big, round eyes of the tailors.