[Imperial Palace — Winter Garden — Continuation]
The tea had grown cold.
The warm air inside the glass garden no longer felt comforting, and the soft sound of the fountain seemed louder now that the conversation had fallen into silence.
For several moments, none of them spoke.
The Emperor of Thalryn slowly placed his cup back onto the table, the faint sound of porcelain touching glass echoing softly beneath the quiet roof of the winter garden. The warmth inside the chamber remained gentle, yet the heaviness of the conversation still lingered in the air like a shadow that refused to leave.
He exhaled slowly, his expression returning to its usual calm, though the weight of what he had revealed had not truly left his eyes.
"Well," he said quietly, his fingers resting on the edge of the table, "It seems I have turned what was meant to be a peaceful tea… into a council of war."
