The ministers were already in the main hall.
Three of them. Seated at a long table draped in crimson velvet that had seen better days. Their faces looked like old leather. Wrinkled. Tough. Their eyes had that sharp glint you get when you've survived frontier politics by being meaner than the next guy. The oldest one stood when Kaelen walked in. Grey beard. A scar that split his left eyebrow clean in two.
"Lord Verant." Gravel voice. Worn smooth from shouting into northern wind. "We started thinking the capital forgot us."
Kaelen dipped his head. "I apologies for my latenesss."
Lysander stood by the window. Arms crossed. Face blank. He didn't move. Didn't speak. This was Kaelen's test, and they both knew it.
"Sit," the minister said. Pointed to a chair.
Kaelen sat. The wood bit cold through his pants. The minister's eyes bit colder.
