The atmosphere in the Caria Council Chamber was so heavy it could have been wrung out like a wet cloth.
Both sides of the long table were packed with people-Caria's old nobility, the Academy's sorcerers, Inquisitor Knights...
Horace stood at the head of the long table, with the enormous crest of the Carian Royal Family behind him.
He had forgone his everyday clothes for formal attire in deep blue. His long, silvery-white hair was tied behind his head, and his dark red eyes swept over everyone present.
"You should all have heard the reports of the Golden Dynasty's campaign in the Mountaintops of the Giants."
Horace spoke in a steady voice that carried unquestionable force:
"The war between the Golden Dynasty and the Fire Giants has reached a stalemate and will not end anytime soon. This means that, for the foreseeable future, we cannot count on military aid from Leyndell."
He paused, letting those words sink into everyone's hearts.
"And over the past month, our neighbor has sent three delegations to Leyndell and privately approached who knows how many nobles here in Caria."
Several old nobles turned deathly pale, faintly sensing chains coiling around their hearts.
Horace ignored their reactions and continued, "I am not accusing anyone. In troubled times, it is only human nature to secure a way out for oneself."
Certain nobles thought, Then take these chains off us!
His voice turned cold. "But I must remind you all that the Storm King's promises have always been built upon other people's bones."
The council chamber fell utterly silent. Some did not want to speak; others could not.
But everyone understood what Horace meant: the Storm King had set his sights on Caria, and war could break out at any moment.
Without waiting for them to finish digesting that