The tension still lingered in the room, but Daemon chose to ignore it. He folded his arms and leaned against the wall, shifting the conversation.
"We have to move forward with the plan," he said, his voice steady. "Six days from now is my birthday... and the day of my dear brother's coronation."
He glanced around the room. "Things will get interesting."
Varian lit up. "Wait—your birthday? Oh, hell yeah! I've never been to a royal birthday before. I've seen a coronation once. The food was—"
"Stop talking about food," Nyxtriel cut in, glaring.
"Just saying," Varian muttered. "Would be a crime to waste cake."
William stepped forward with a serious tone. "My lord, is there anything you need us to do to help? You'll be busy with palace matters, right?"
Daemon nodded. "Actually, yes. I need something... specific."
They leaned in, curious.
"Do any of you know where I can find gunpowder?" Daemon asked calmly. "I need to set a bomb."
Silence.
