Edric inclines his head, his voice measured. "Prince Darius. Marshal Draven. It is an honor to receive the esteemed representatives of Valgros."
Marshal Draven says nothing, only giving Edric a slow, assessing glance before shifting his gaze to the gathered nobles.
A noble clenches his jaw. Another averts his gaze.
Duke Fynn suddenly said. "Prince Darius we sought your kingdom's aid," he replies smoothly. "After all, Valgros has always been unmatched in the art of war."
Darius turns to Duke Fynn, his expression one of mock surprise. "Oh? Is that so?" He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. "My, my… what happened here, exactly?"
His eyes gleam with amusement, but beneath that, there's something sharper—a silent message to Fynn. Act natural.
Edric exhales slowly, forcing himself to remain calm. His voice is steady, but there's an undeniable edge to it. "Prince Darius must be joking. With your kingdom's intelligence network, you already know what has happened."
