"Death?" Flynn raised his body from the ground, dusting off his dirty old clothes before gazing back at the odd man standing in front of him.
Death. Of all the words spoken, it was the one that caught his attention. He gazed at the slightly taller man, whose smile showed more at sympathy and seriousness.
"Death?" His mind confused, as he again asked.
"Yes, lad. Death. You're sentenced to death by the order of the Queen herself and the Bureau of Gatekeepers—"
"And you're their mouthpiece?" Flynn interrupted.
The man took a deep breath before continuing.
"Young lad, do you know what's on your finger?" He pointed at the ring, which Flynn slowly hid behind his back, asking, "What's with the ring?"
"I'm sure your low graded mind won't understand what I have to say, but if it's possible, try using understanding... You know, with your limited understanding and a person as you... of your... background, you should try to understand all these I'm saying."
