After Louis left, the council chamber remained heavy with tension.
Bradley stepped forward slowly, stood below the head seat, and took a stack of documents bearing the Red Tide seal from his adjutant. Expressionlessly, he announced, "This is the Snowpeak Reconstruction Pact Draft. Please sign it in turn."
The document was brief, but its wording was as cold and hard as iron:
Within the Red Tide Fief, all nobles must obey the Red Tide Edicts. They may not maintain private armies or interfere in military or administrative affairs.
All noble affairs must be subject to Red Tide coordination and cooperate fully with the winter transition and reconstruction plans.
Anyone who defies these orders will be punished for rebellion.
"This pact shall constitute the nobles' formal pledge to participate voluntarily in Red Tide reconstruction. If there are no objections, sign immediately." Bradley's voice was quiet, but its pressure allowed no argument.
Joern stepped forward to sign first, followed by Veris. Their expressions were calm, and they even pressed their signet rings onto the document without prompting.
After them, silence held the chamber for several breaths.
The other nobles began signing one after another.
Every name committed to paper felt like a debt contract, an oath, an invisible noose.
No one protested-not because they did not want to, but because they did not dare.
Those who finished signing lowered their heads and left their seats, filing out without a word.
Only the echoes of boots remained in the stone-pillared corridor, its silence unsettling.
The nobles who had once chatted and laughed so freely now dared not meet one another's eyes. No one mentioned the fates of Brooke, Harris, or Sirius.
Outside, the cold wind cut like a blade, and snow fell soundlessly.
They walked out of the Tulou step by step, their