The Great Feast Hall of the Northern citadel roared with a volatile mix of blazing hearth fires, clattering pewter platters, and the tense murmur of rival wolves.
Massive iron chandeliers hung from the soaring timber rafters, casting flickering golden light over three long banquet tables laden with roasted wild boar, spiced winter venison, and dark blackberry wine. Along the lower benches, the Northern warriors and the crude Iron-Claw delegates drank in uneasy silence, their hands never straying far from their sheathed daggers.
On the elevated high dais overlooking the hall sat King Kaelen and Elara, presiding together over the tense assembly.
Kaelen occupied the carved throne of black granite and polished bone, his commanding presence filling the high seat with raw, untamed majesty. He
