Northern was stunned into silence. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again—finding nothing. For several long seconds, he simply sat there, the noise of the feast washing over him like distant waves.
Then he reeled himself back into control.
'All can't be lost. This is about his wife. I should be able to heal her. But there's something else first.'
Northern fixed the King with an intent look.
"So... you don't want to fight the Empire and wish to abandon your people... because your wife is dying?" There was something in his voice as he addressed the King. Something tinged with scorn he didn't bother to hide.
King Ruger seemed to sense it. A somber smile lingered on his lips, his gaze drifting to the large flat fish on his table—a thing the size of three palms pressed together, its glazed skin reflecting the candlelight.
"Lord Northern, have you ever led?"
Northern's gaze stayed straight. Serious.
