The other minor lords reluctantly returned to their seats, their expressions a mix of rage and unease. None dared speak, but their thoughts were loud enough—anger, confusion, and fear now aimed squarely at Corven.
"That's better," Corven said, whistling casually as he leaned into one palm. His posture screamed nonchalance, but his eyes remained sharp. He wanted them to feel uneasy—threatened—by how unaffected he looked.
But Heinrich and Heist weren't ready to let Corven seize control of the entire conversation. Not yet. They needed to reassert themselves—if only to maintain the illusion of power.
"What's the meaning of this?" Heinrich asked, voice stiff. He didn't look at Corven. Instead, he turned to Aisha, planting a hand firmly on the table. His gaze was sharp, demanding answers—but still avoiding the man who had just shaken the room.
