In the grand palace of Raltheon Kingdom, tension hangs thick in the air. The meeting chamber, usually a place of diplomacy and strategy, now feels more like a battlefield. King Edric sits at the head of the long, ornately carved table, his fingers tapping impatiently against the polished wood. His expression is sour, no, furious.
Even with the severity of the situation, the rulers of Ordeya and Valgros have only sent representatives. He had personally written letters to both kings, expecting their presence, but all he received were envoys.
His gaze sharpens as he leans forward, his voice carrying the weight of his frustration. "So, did the two of them agree to help me?"
