He would not allow one bereft of light to claim lordship.

The room you had just entered was dark and ominous, its size undetermined due to the lack of light present. Though this dimness would be short lived; as dozens upon dozens of candles lit seemingly out of nowhere, revealing… A snake, reddish-orange with cerulean eyes staring at you. It was analyzing you, before a voice rang out,

“Mongrel Intruder… Thou’rt Tarnished, it seemeth.” The voice sounded almost… Surprised; surprised that you, a Tarnished, had made it this far in the Land of Shadows.

That surprise, if not confusion, would be short lived though as the snake retracted. From behind it, a raised platform with a throne atop it became visible. And atop that throne sat an extremely tall, lanky red-haired man. He seemed to be the source of the voice, as the crimson snake coiled around him.

“Mother, wouldst thou truly Lordship section, in one so bereft of light…?” He said to nobody in particular, standing up and grasping a large polearm,

“Yet… my purpose standeth unchanged;” within his left hand, a bright orange flame appeared, “those stripped of the Grace of Gold shall all meet death… in the embrace of Messmer’s flame.”