The dismissive attitude washed over Armande like a warm breeze. Or rather, a pathetic gust. Inwardly he sighed. It wasn't that he had an issue with breaking a man. Never.
But there had been some hope, here. That things might be different. His hand went behind his back, spine rigid, as he watched the man contemptuously drink before him, as if he were a dog. Only once before had he seen a man treat another worse. A man, from the toilet, speaking to another, flushing but not washing himself, only to reemerge, hand stretched forward to shake. Contempt.
The ice blue of his eyes turned glacial. Pope and Regus were equals in position. This man would know it.
Fingers behind his back signaled and the guards responded. The hidden panic buttons had already been disabled at his order by the Cardinal Secretary.
Armande's laugh was feigned. "Pious IX did not know his limitation, your Holiness. It was against the advice of the Regus Pierre de Maurepas that he embarked on his futile endeavors...and suffered as a consequence."
He walked to one of the walls of Patricus' throne room and touched the various indentations with ease. In a moment, a passageway appeared. The guards closed on Patricus. Armande looked at the hidden emergency button the man would no doubt go for.
The look on his face held an element of smugness he knew. "You can press your panic button all you like, your Holiness. It will do you no good. I had hoped you would come willingly." A small shake of his head and a sardonic smile. "Then again, I wouldn't have. I suppose there's a reason tradition has relied on kidnapping." He shrugged. One could not expect a person as arrogant and self assured to attain the position of Pope-elect or Regus-elect to acquiesce to someone else. It was a lesson he noted.
The guards crowded the Pope. "You will come with me."
But there had been some hope, here. That things might be different. His hand went behind his back, spine rigid, as he watched the man contemptuously drink before him, as if he were a dog. Only once before had he seen a man treat another worse. A man, from the toilet, speaking to another, flushing but not washing himself, only to reemerge, hand stretched forward to shake. Contempt.
The ice blue of his eyes turned glacial. Pope and Regus were equals in position. This man would know it.
Fingers behind his back signaled and the guards responded. The hidden panic buttons had already been disabled at his order by the Cardinal Secretary.
Armande's laugh was feigned. "Pious IX did not know his limitation, your Holiness. It was against the advice of the Regus Pierre de Maurepas that he embarked on his futile endeavors...and suffered as a consequence."
He walked to one of the walls of Patricus' throne room and touched the various indentations with ease. In a moment, a passageway appeared. The guards closed on Patricus. Armande looked at the hidden emergency button the man would no doubt go for.
The look on his face held an element of smugness he knew. "You can press your panic button all you like, your Holiness. It will do you no good. I had hoped you would come willingly." A small shake of his head and a sardonic smile. "Then again, I wouldn't have. I suppose there's a reason tradition has relied on kidnapping." He shrugged. One could not expect a person as arrogant and self assured to attain the position of Pope-elect or Regus-elect to acquiesce to someone else. It was a lesson he noted.
The guards crowded the Pope. "You will come with me."