Atheron let the first interruption at his council table pass without comment, curious how quickly the second would arrive.
Incense drifted from the burners along the walls and mingled with the blood still seeping red through Kenny's fresh wraps. The young knight sat beneath his house crest while a Flint representative answered every question meant for the survivor himself.
An empty left sleeve and a covered eye gave every objection a wound to point at instead of an answer.
Duke Vahn slammed his palm against the table hard enough to rattle the cups standing between the reports, "This account is garbage, from its first line to its last!"
"Every word of it, and I read the damn thing three times hoping I misread it."
"Our house paid for that mission in blood," the Flint representative snarled, shoving his chair back and setting a hand beside his blade.
'One more inch toward that hilt inside my hall, and Flint learns how short my patience runs.'
