After slipping away from Greed's dream scape and leaving unconvinced of many variables when it came to the prince, the King made true on his promise casting a visit to Isabel. Despite the threats he made towards the woman, he could not help feeling overly curious what made this witch special enough that she wrapped a sinfully arrogant demon such as his well-devoted Pride around her finger with charming wile. If Bel held the power controlling a Prince, who knows how unstoppable she would be ruling a kingdom? The King watched as the surroundings took the shape of a living room, small, cozy. How he detested the smell. Laying stretched out on a sofa to his absolute disgust was a beastly ball of fur he only assumed was the witch's familiar. "Isabel," He called out to the void, "Come to me."
