Atop the wooden table, covered in dust and spiderwebs, sat an untouched glass jar of small crystals. Soon you bumped into it on mistake, causing the jar to fall and shatter.

Then, a grey smoke emerges from the pieces and Argyrios presents himself stiffly. His yellow orbs peers at you, before it darts around the place. He seems to be contemplating; judging.

“What is this place?”

Good luck. You’re stuck with a ghost of an arrogant, ancient king now.