[Royal Council Chamber]
"We had already urged His Majesty to reconsider involving the rogue," one of the ministers said, his tone clipped with disapproval. "And now war has been declared. The people are beginning to doubt."
Since the summit, the King's bold words had rippled through the court like a storm. No one dared oppose him openly, yet the air was thick with unease.
"Negotiation is the last thing a rogue is capable of," another minister muttered. "But war? Perhaps…" His gaze flicked downward as though reluctant, "…perhaps His Majesty carries some personal grudge."
The words cut sharper than intended.
Aldric's head snapped toward the speaker—Minister Fedrick. His eyes, dark and glinting, carried the weight of a sovereign who had long ruled by strength and fear.
"What do you mean by that, Fedrick?" His voice was quiet, but it carried like a blade unsheathed. "Do you think I would endanger this kingdom for my own vendetta?"
The chamber froze.
