Duke Kimar's smirk lingered, his eyes sweeping across the chamber like a man already draped in the crown.
Soon… very soon. The throne will be mine.
Every noble's applause, every eager nod of support, was a stone placed on his path to power. Their loyalty was shallow, but shallow loyalty was enough when backed by numbers.
Garius…
Kimar's thoughts tightened, his gaze flicking toward the Count who sat with calm composure.
You are the only stone in my way. But no matter. Let him have his turn, let him speak with that silver tongue. The council does not bend to words, it bends to votes. And the votes are already mine.
The Duke lifted his goblet with perfect grace, tipping it toward Garius as if in genuine respect, his voice smooth as polished steel.
"By all means, Count Garius. Your words enlighten us as always."
The chamber hummed, nobles leaning forward with expectation. Some smiled, others waited, but all turned toward Armand's seat.
