Tales instinctively turned his head and looked around, but the cramped Ballad Room remained cold, quiet, and empty. Nothing stirred.
The sunset had already faded, leaving only the dim glow of the lamps.
Only King Kessel's icy gaze stabbed toward him from afar, sharp as a blade at his throat.
"Wonderful."
Tales sighed and gave up searching for Yordel:
"Whenever we were outside, he never listened to me this well."
Tales narrowed his eyes and tried to adjust his mood, loosening his muscles and joints as if preparing for a great battle:
"But are you sure he really left?"
The Iron Fist King's answer was simple and direct, his words cold and clipped:
"You have fifteen minutes."
Fifteen minutes.
Tales fell silent for a second.
Obviously, those fifteen minutes wouldn't be spent discussing anything like "positive topics for a father and son reunion."
Thinking this, he nodded with a snort:
"Not bad. You should know that the Northlanders only gave me two minutes back then."
Kessel the Fifth snorted coldly.
"And you've already wasted half of it."
His tone made the urgency impossible to ignore.
Listening to Kessel's utterly merciless words, Tales had no choice but to take a deep breath and pull himself together.
After all, he had come this far and sacrificed so much.
All to stand before his own windmill.
Wasn't that right?
With that thought, Tales put away his expression and composed his features.
"After last night's banquet, you extorted this petition from the little flower—I mean, the Duke of Iris—forcing him to pay taxes and provide conscripts, while calling on the entire nation to follow his example."
Tales leaned forward slightly and pressed down on the letter on the table:
"Now it seems you did that to resolve the problem at today's Imperial Council. Lord