The ministers, having witnessed enough, finally understood. They could never hope to command such a weapon. Not after what they had seen. Arabella had not shifted the gun an inch, and yet the bullet had swerved, chosen its target on its own. Worse still, the deer had appeared as if summoned, pulled into the training ground by her unseen hand. Witchcraft. None of them could deny it now. This weapon was not steel alone but something bound to powers far beyond their grasp.
And so, in silence, they reached the same conclusion: never again would they dare to ask for the blueprint. Not after Christopher's folly. Not after this demonstration. To press further would be to invite her wrath— and perhaps their deaths.
