The elders whispered among themselves, voices thick with dissatisfaction.
They hadn't gotten what they wanted out of Arden, and the sharpness in their stares said as much. Perhaps they had expected him to buckle under their pressure, or thought his tongue would loosen if they pressed hard enough. Instead, they were left with empty hands, and the frustration in the room was heavy.
The lord finally raised his hand, the chamber quieting at once.
His voice carried through the hall, low but commanding, the kind that left no space for argument.
"You will not be held here any longer. But Greyhold still has need of your strength.
The supply route to our city has seen too many disruptions, merchants robbed, wagons burned, and goods lost. You will take charge of its protection. If Creed is involved, you will discover it. If not, then at least our roads will run clean."
