Seated on the Duke's opulent sofa, Ashok exuded an air of authority, his posture regal, as if he were a king on a throne rather than a guest in the Duke's grand chamber. But beneath the veneer of control, Ashok's mind raced with anxiety.
'Did I push too far? 'Ashok wondered, his eyes drifting to Cassius. The man stood motionless in the center of the room, his posture rigid. His head was bowed low, the wide brim of his bamboo hat casting a shadow over his face, obscuring any sign of emotion.
The sword in Cassius' grip was steady, but Ashok noticed the faintest tremor in the blade.
Ashok's gaze shifted from Cassius to the Duke. The Duke's attention remained entirely absorbed in the note in his hand, his eyes never lifting from the parchment. His eyes drifted to the Head Butler, standing silently by the door, a towering figure of stoic indifference.
