Valerian leaned in. "They screamed your name because let's face it, not many can withstand my torture, not even you Cornelius."
Ser Cornelius starred wide eyed at the king.
For a moment after the last word left the king's mouth, no one breathed.
For the first time since Cornelius Raventhorn had entered the Grand Hall with his head held high, his composure cracked.
It was subtle—just a tightening of the jaw, a fleeting flicker in his eyes—but in a hall trained to read power, it did not go unnoticed.
Cornelius Raventhorn stood frozen at the center of the Grand Hall, the bloodied men groaning faintly at his feet. The murmurs that had once filled the chamber were gone, swallowed whole by the weight of what had just unfolded.
Ministers stared openly now—some in horror, some in disbelief, others with expressions too carefully blank to trust.
Valerian straightened slowly.
