The subordinates froze. The anger in their hearts had not faded, but neither did they voice any objections.
Paul turned around and swept his gaze over them. "I'm not being weak. I'm weighing the situation. What the king wants is the stability of the kingdom, not victory in a single battle. He isn't afraid of Alba. He's afraid of the next Giles—even if that person is me."
He paused for a moment, seemingly organizing his thoughts, then said slowly, "If I were king..."
The moment the words left his mouth, he himself faltered slightly.
For that instant, the sentence seemed less like a hypothetical and more like a hidden current of electricity shooting from his spine straight into his mind.
If I were king. Those five words stirred an echo within him unlike anything he had ever felt before.
He did not continue, but that brief pause was enough for Hansel to catch a hint of something strange.
Paul quickly returned to normal and continued in an even tone, "So there's no need for us to resent this. We'll continue strengthening the fortress defenses with the forces we currently have and prepare for the Orcish actions to come."
He walked back to the desk, folded the letter, and placed it in the drawer. Firelight illuminated his stern profile, and no one saw the slight tremble of his fingertips.
"If I were king..." The unfinished words were like a seed silently buried deep within Paul's heart.
After everyone left, the office of the Lord's Manor fell silent.
The flames in the fireplace had shrunk into several clusters of dark-red embers, while the oil lamp cast a hazy yellow circle across the heavy desk.
Paul sat down behind the desk and remained silent for a long while. He did not move at