Northern stood in the council hall with King Ruger, a handful of officials gathered around them in loose formation. The tension from the throne room hadn't dissipated—if anything, it had concentrated, settling into the stone walls like something physical.
"In all honesty, we do not have much intel about the Empire," the King admitted, "let alone the Emperor himself. There are records of histories that my predecessors wrote of their brief exchanges. The only thing that has always helped us from the brink of destruction was the mountain itself."
He sighed, shifting his weight. "Despite being a small nation, the mountain has aided us in times past—enough to have a back and forth with the Empire. Of course, in all those exchanges, we've never had to face the full force of their attack. It'd simply be pointless for them to bother so much over such a small nation…"
King Ruger leaned his head on his hand, the gesture suddenly making him look older. Wearier.
