The morning after their arrival at the Conclave of Five Peaks was a study in calculated power dynamics. The initial flurry of diplomatic feelers from the lesser kingdoms had been handled with Queen Ondine's practiced, regal grace, establishing the new Jorailian Empire as a significant, if enigmatic, new player on the continental stage.
But Alaric Steele was not a man to linger on past victories. The true game lay not in receiving the petitions of the desperate, but in appraising the strengths of the powerful.
"It is time for a walk, my ladies," Alaric announced, his voice a low, calm murmur that cut through the quiet efficiency of their magnificent pavilion. He stood by a large, open archway, gazing out at the sprawling, temporary city that filled the valley below.
