Recently, Gis had been avoiding his office. He couldn't stand the sight of the bloodstains that still occasionally seeped through the cracks in the floor – a grim reminder of the numerous craftsmen he had killed there.
Despite his ruthlessness, the sight of the blood was repulsive to him and clashed with his sense of decorum.
In a new room, Gis stood surrounded by more craftsmen. Their faces were etched with apprehension, their voices hushed.
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