The King didn't speak.
He merely stared.
The temperature in the courtroom dropped by several degrees—not through magic, but sheer tension. The air itself seemed to cower.
Raven, completely unfazed, held the new acorn aloft like a game show host presenting the grand prize. "See? Slightly cracked on the left, glowing infernal core sealed with soul-binding glyphs—you can tell it's real because this one's humming ominously."
The acorn was humming ominously.
In fact, it was gently pulsing with a red light, and the distant sound of echoing demonic screeches seemed to come from nowhere in particular.
One minister fainted.
Another crossed himself in three religions.
The Queen leaned forward with interest. "...Now that's a nut."
The King raised a single finger—barely a twitch—and one of the royal mages stepped forward.
He was elderly and stooped, and his beard had more braids than moral restraint. With trembling hands, he took the acorn.
There was a moment.
Then another.
