The first letter arrived sealed in black wax.
No crest. No signature. Just a folded sheet of heavy parchment delivered by a neutral courier who refused eye contact and left before our guards could question him.
I broke the seal myself.
Derek watched from across my desk. Jax stood near the windows, arms folded, gaze trained on the mountains as if he could already see what was coming over us.
The message was brief.
Montenegro has chosen deviation over discipline. Europe will convene.
No threat written outright.
None needed.
I folded the parchment carefully and set it down. “They’re moving faster than I expected.”
“They were waiting,” Derek replied. “You simply gave them a reason.”
Jax turned from the window. “They’ve been uneasy since you stripped Drail. The law change was the spar
