Air shifted.
No longer just tense — it was combustible.
Every word spoken now was a spark cast over dry kindling.
Lady Morlain had retreated, her failed accusation staining her House's pride like a wound that would not clot. Yet her shame was not enough to deter the others.
No, the blood had only begun to flow.
And sharks had scented it.
Emboldened, minor lords and ladies rose from their carved benches, their voices sharp and hungry. They clutched accusations like daggers, desperate to wound what they could not outright destroy.
A paunch-bellied Lord Marwick, his robes straining against his swollen gut, pointed a trembling hand at Velrosa.
"I bring forth accusation!" he bellowed, his voice cracked with the strain, spittle flying from his lips. "Princess Velrosa has used her House Guard — including the King-killer Eli and the demon slave Ian Night — to intimidate rivals, manipulate contracts, and force compliance with her demands!"
