The VIP viewing room was gold-trimmed silence, broken only by the soft clink of glasses and the occasional puff of old nobility laughing too loud.
Counties. Earls. A few smug Dukes.
They were all saying the same thing.
"This year's competition is the best yet."
"The potential revenue if we invite international schools—immense!"
And right in the middle, King Joseph, in full effortless regality, sipping something dark and expensive, nodded like he already owned the outcome.
"I plan to open the tournament. Let others enter from the outer regions. Maybe across the border. Why limit something so... profitable?"
Every noble in the room agreed immediately, of course. Some clapped. One actually bowed. Conrad said nothing. He just sat there, arms resting against the polished railing, eyes locked on his father like he was studying him instead of listening.
Hans noticed it.
Leaning toward him, voice low, he nudged Conrad out of the trance.
