Nolan let the silence stretch, letting the weight of uncertainty hang in the room like a slow-moving fog. Then, with deliberate calm, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, fingers lightly interlocked. His eyes—sharp and calculating—scanned the chamber.
"So then," he said, his voice measured but firm, "the real question isn't whether Kaelen is worth saving."
He paused.
"It's what we demand in return."
A low murmur stirred at the edge of the council table—but before anyone could speak further, Lady Myria raised her hand with a graceful flick, silencing the room. Her tone was serene, but laced with steel.
"Why are we so eager to talk about terms," she said, her voice cutting through the murmurs like a dagger through silk. "Does anyone here actually believe we can help Kaelen in his current state?"
Her gaze swept across the table, unflinching. The room fell still, the other nobles holding their tongues.
