Reynolds took a small sip of seaweed wine, a specialty from the Glazed Islands.
The purple-black liquid swirled in the goblet, refracting the light from the crystal lamp, like a starry sky trapped inside.
He shook the goblet, his gaze steady, as if deciding where to start answering Ron's doubts.
"The situation in the Central Lands is far more complex than what's recorded in writing."
"On the surface, it looks like a School Alliance co-governing, but in reality, there are undercurrents, and the power struggle never ceases, merely changing to wear more refined masquerades."
Ron nodded slightly, though he didn't entirely believe it, silently assessing the truthfulness of Reynolds' words.
The subtle fluctuations in Reynolds' tone weren't an intentional concealment but a compression of complicated facts.
Clearly, he was trying to simplify a convoluted system.
"First, you need to understand the Court of Truth."
