The heavy silence that fell over the Royal Strategy Chamber was far colder than the subterranean vaults beneath the keep.
No one moved. The high councilors, who only moments prior had been shouting and pounding their fists against the oak table over falling barrier percentages, sat frozen in their high-backed chairs. Their eyes shifted nervously between the dark blood-gold signet ring resting on the stone map and the pale-blue spatial light pulsing softly from Kyle's right palm.
Standing at the head of the long table, King Troy did not sit back down. His broad, armored chest rose and fell in slow, heavy breaths as his sharp, battle-hardened gaze locked onto Kyle. The king was a veteran of a hundred campaigns, a ruler who had watched his kingdom transform into an iron fortress, but he was also a master of reading raw power. He didn't need a system diagnostic to know that the young man standing ten paces away was no longer just a talented warrior returning from an expedition.
