"So we're going to let fairies trample on us like that?" Baron Claude's voice rang through the hall like a thrown gauntlet, sharp with outrage. "We have the Great Dividing Wall. Ten thousand men. Ballistas powerful enough to bring wyverns to the ground. The United Army might be vast, but they will not pass easily. And if we strike Cyrenia first, if we spill their blood, the people will rise behind us. Any other action… will be seen as weakness."
He looked around the table with fire in his eyes, and one by one, the lords turned their gaze toward the captains lining the chamber walls. Just as Claude had said, their eyes blazed—not with fear, but with vengeance. In them was the fury of burned homes, butchered kin, and lost honour. In them was reverence—for Claude.
It was clear what they wanted. War.
