Turn sent. Keep up this pace, guys
-----
The prisoner was shoved into the spartan throne room. He stumbled forward, losing balance and unable to catch himself with his hands bound and feet chained together. To his credit he didn't utter a sound of protest at the indignity of his fall and climbed to his feet without giving his captors a sign of discomfort. The room was otherwise empty except for the lone figure standing before the throne and the pair of guards who escorted the prisoner. The guards turned and left leaving the prisoner staring at the back of the man before the throne.
"So, we meet at last. You are the man who has caused so much trouble for my researchers?"
"Those researchers were an abomination!"
The figure before the throne turned and looked at the prisoner and raised a questioning eyebrow. The prisoner stared back furious expecting a reply but none was forthcoming.
"So you are the damned maniac who has seized control of our noble house then. Corrupted our ways, turned his back on the holy church!"
The last jab got a rise, the so called maniac stepped towards the prisoner and pointed an accusing finger at him. "I save the church from the machinations of petty schemers like yourself!"
"You subvert the will of the pancreator! He has a plan and we need none of this heresy filled technology!"
"Agree to disagree."
"What?!?"
"Agree to disagree."
"What in the name of the pancreator do you mean?"
"I mean that I will not judge you for your beliefs."
"What trickery is this?"
"I will return you to the desert from whence you came, taking from you your followers and useless technology and leaving you with nothing but the will of the pancreator to guide you. Then I will return to my men and my technology and my works. Perhaps we will meet again as free men."
"This is blasphemy, you god damned maniac!"
"Thank you for the name, it's rather catchy."
The maniac snapped his fingers once and the guards returned to drag away the prisoner.