[Richard enjoys the playing the game, it's true. Just like a beast that's been shackled down for too long earns for the freedom after getting sniff of the fresh air for the first time. Both his mind and body keeps longing for the battlefield, even if instead of bloodied war zone it is the grand halls of the castle.

But perhaps for everyone's sake, he has not yet decided whether this world, city of Aldrip with its curiosities, is something he deems worthy of fighting for.]

I couldn't have said it better myself. [Richard, in return, raises his glass in a quiet toast before taking his final sip, emptying the tumbler once again.

There's a quiet chuckle from him, no doubt brought to surface by the dawning intoxication he was experiencing. Oh boy, does Richard have stories to tell? Granted, most of his recent atrocities were done by using a middleman. James Tyrrell, the assassin that Buckingham hired for him. But luckily, he's not drunk enough yet to let his lips go loose on the subject. They had established that they both were beast rather than men, but he'd still keep some of his fangs hidden if possible]

Imprisonment. But that is dull and obvious answer, as you know. However, it all boils down to a tale you can tell, the art of deception. One needs to spin such ploy that it will fool the eyes of each good soul. That way you can cage even the God himself and no one will bat their eyes at the devil horns you are wearing.