A stunned silence swept through the tent as the word hung in the air.
"No."
Luca's voice wasn't loud, but it cut clean—sharp as a blade drawn in the dark.
The flickering lantern light cast harsh shadows on grim faces. Tension snapped taut, and for a moment, no one moved.
Then the Knight Commander, a broad man with dark hair and a permanent scowl etched into his brow, turned toward him like a storm breaking loose.
His voice thundered.
"Miss Seraphina, I stayed silent even when you brought him into this war council—because I thought we had more pressing matters than arguing over your whims." His tone sharpened like iron being hammered. "But now, he dares interrupt our strategy? Who does he think he is?"
Several knights murmured in agreement behind him—disdainful stares and muttered curses trailing like an echo.
Someone from the Holy Kingdom scoffed aloud.
"This is a matter of survival. Not a place for tantrums or self-importance. Don't be a nuisance."
The murmuring began.
