The towering doors of the Royal Court slammed open with a deafening boom as Damian strode out without looking back, his long black robes billowing behind him with every furious step.
The ministers still inside instinctively turned toward the sound, yet none dared call out to him. His expression had grown colder than when he entered, and the violet slits within his pitch black eyes flickered erratically between violet and crimson as though something beneath the surface was struggling to break free.
The meeting had ended far differently than he had anticipated. He had believed he had cornered both the Minister of War and the Grand Chancellor with an argument so simple even they could not refute it. Instead, over half the court had risen in opposition. By doing so, they had transformed what should have been a straightforward military order into a matter requiring prolonged deliberation.
