The assembled Lords and Ladies, thirteen in total, lay scattered far below her in a haphazard assembly around the table. Bellatrix stared up at her with a grin just barely noticeable, all the others just as silent as the grave while they awaited on  something  to happen. Her answer? Another reproach? She wasn’t sure. Some of them looked far too fearful to form a response at all, others smiling devilishly up at her as if  they  were in on the game. Still more looked to have expected her little outburst, or at least had been made aware of the fact that she even existed up above them before any of this began. The few who remained silent with stupefied expressions painting their faces were more than likely new to Voldemort’s grand vision of a Capital. Dignitaries, diplomats, maybe a political hostage or two. All of them never having walked among the hallowed lands of His new Kingdom, their new Capital. 