The King rose from his seat with a heaviness that marked the beginning of something irreversible. He moved toward the door and beckoned a nearby servant who had been waiting in the outer hall. The servant bowed deeply, sensing the shift in the air even before any words were spoken.
"Send word immediately," the King ordered. His voice carried the iron weight of a ruler preparing his nation for war. "Call My Seer at once. Summon the High Council. Inform every seated lord and lady in Valerion, every commanding officer, and the leader of the Royal Cultivator Army. Valerion stands on the edge of battle. We assemble now."
The servant bowed again, already pale, and sprinted through the corridor with the urgency of a man carrying the fate of a kingdom on his back.
