The emperor's silence dragged for a while, his chest rising and falling as though a storm had settled within him. His thick hands curled at his sides before he finally stilled them, forcing his breathing to steady. His eyes, sharp and unyielding like tempered steel, fixed on The King with the look of a man swallowing poison but refusing to choke.
At last, the emperor broke the silence. "I cannot bear it," he said, his voice low at first but rising as he went on. "The thought of Lechia holding what Rus does not...of them having such an advantage over me, over my people...no, it twists my insides. I loathe it with every drop of blood in my veins. And yet, I see no other road. You corner me well. You knew before we began speaking that I would choose this path."
King Alden folded his hands before him, neither triumphant nor mocking, but steady as stone. "Then you accept an alliance between Rus, Valerion, and Lechia?"
