Inside the dimly lit royal library, the scent of old parchment and aged wood lingered in the air. The afternoon sun filtered through stained-glass windows, casting colorful patterns across the rows of towering shelves. Amidst the silence, Arthur sat alone at one of the long mahogany tables, his posture relaxed but his mind sharp.
A single envelope lay in front of him, the wax seal already broken. His gloved fingers ran across the crisp paper as he unfolded it carefully.
His eyes moved over the words slowly, absorbing every detail.
Your Majesty, Arthur Tesla,
From what I have observed, it seems increasingly unlikely that any of the noble factions from other nations will continue their support for Iron Shield. At the beginning, several noble houses from Elysia discreetly sent spies and small reinforcements, providing logistical aid and intelligence.
