Warze stands to his right, Walker and Tucker to his left, the entire home filled with sharp, anxious quiet. It takes about five long minutes after the Vermix are brought in for King Hozfin to acknowledge them. He finally inhales, his dark eyes pelting the trespassers. “What you want?” The Vermix that Sampson spoke with has his restraint moved from his snout again. Glaring between all the Arizals and Zingfinolds, he looks at the king. “What you have.” “You come to steal?” Hozfin slams his furry hand down on the arm of his throne. The vibrations resound through the entire wooden abode, shaking the walls. “You want steal from Zingfinolds! You want come to our land—you want take from us?” he roars, spittle flying as his eyes throb with a hint of insanity. He settles back into his seat, strumming his fingers on the edge of his arm rest. “Who sent you steal from Zingfinolds?” “The Supreme,” the Vermix hisses. “Who this Supreme?” “The greatest Dellapalanian Leader—Father Reuzkimpart.”
