The great hall had fallen into a heavy silence, its grand chandeliers casting flickering light upon the ten gathered rulers. The tension from the recent conflict still hung thick in the air, like the remnants of a storm. Then came the moment of reckoning—the vote that would decide the fate of the United of Regia.
Ten leaders had cast their decision. Seven had chosen war. Three had chosen restraint.
The result was clear.
King Schlanger’s lips curled in frustration, his fingers gripping the armrest of his chair with barely contained rage. Arlod, seated beside him, clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles whitened. They had lost. The call to counterattack had prevailed, and by the sacred oaths binding them, they were compelled to abide by it.
General Hedorven, however, wore a rare smile
