The chamber was filled with noise.
It wasn't the usual political murmuring or the dull sound of pen against parchment — it was chaos. Shouts clashed with curses, voices overlapping in a storm that shook the marble walls of the Northern Parliament Hall.
The air reeked of sweat, perfume, and fear. Candles flickered from the iron chandeliers above, dripping wax onto the polished wooden tables arranged in a half circle. Dozens of nobles sat at their seats — some in military uniform, others in rich velvet coats, their house emblems stitched proudly on their shoulders.
The Parliament of the North had been called for an emergency session. Frostveil had burned. Trade routes were severed. The South was blaming the North, and the Central Senate had already begun drafting a joint declaration of war.
The North had no time left for hesitation.
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