Wolfgrimm stared at his reflection in the convex mirror. He grabbed hold of his cape, undoing the clasps. He chucked it down onto a chair, letting it hang off the backrest. Fighting a war in a cape would be a bloody nuisance to him. Growling, he cracked his neck and then grabbed his sword, making his way out of the room, on his way to burn down Frinnor.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.