The banquet hall was silent, but it was no longer the silence of a library.
It was the silence of a graveyard.
Noah's voice, calm and melodic, broke the spell.
"The food is getting cold," he repeated, his eyes scanning the trembling faces of the remaining delegates.
"It would be a tragedy to let such a spread go to waste. Please, join me."
There was no rush to the tables.
Instead, there was a slow, mechanical movement.
Envoys from the Lesser Systems, beings who had spent their lives bowing to the Dragons and Spirits, now moved toward the wine decanters like puppets on strings.
They didn't move because they were hungry.
They moved because a man whose general could snap an Immortal King into glitter had told them to.
Hands shook as they lifted crystal glasses.
The clinking of silverware against fine porcelain sounded like hammer blows in the quiet hall.
Liara, the Phoenix Queen, was the only one who moved with genuine ease.
