The words hung in the air like a blade unsheathed—'Duke's engineers'.
Edric's fingers twitched toward his sword, the instinctive reaction of a man who had spent too long in the viper's nest of royal politics. His mind raced, stitching together the implications:
'Marveil's wealth. Bryndis' ambition. A flying ship. Dwarven allies. And now, the Duke's own craftsmen reinforcing this barony's bones.'
This was no mere alliance. This was something far more dangerous.
Kael observed the herald's reaction with the detached focus of a scientist noting variables. The man's pulse had spiked—visible in the slight flutter of his carotid. His pupils dilated, betraying the moment his arrogance cracked into realization.
'Good.'
"Felix," Kael said, without breaking eye contact with Edric, "gather everyone in the grand hall. We'll address the council shortly."
Felix bowed and melted into the crowd, his robes whispering against the cobblestones.
