The true Kreideprinz now lie in standing, sitting on his throne carved of silver and adorned with velvet with his ankles crossed over one another. His forefinger tapped upon the armrest of his throne as his mind wavered.

For once, he could not muster up a way to condemn you for your sin.

Brought to your knees in front of the established prince and held still by chain and soldiers alike, he glared at you with disdain.

"You are required to speak." He'd mumble.