The walk to the Imperial Study was quiet. Too quiet.
The corridor was long, lined with portraits of dead kings who seemed to judge the living with painted eyes. Daniel walked a step ahead, his shoulders tense, the heavy thud of his boots echoing against the marble. The Royal Guards flanking them were stiff, their hands resting white-knuckled on the pommels of their swords—not out of aggression, but out of a subtle, instinctive fear of the man walking between them.
Oliver strolled with his hands in his pockets, looking bored. But beneath the surface, his mana was cycling, a silent engine ready to trigger [Void Step] at the first sign of a trap.
They reached the heavy double doors at the end of the corridor.
"Be mindful," Daniel whispered, pausing just before the elite knights in gold-trimmed armor. "His Majesty is… in a mood. The revelation about William has unsettled the court."
"Unsettled?" Oliver raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Or scared?"
