Hajin's fingers hovered motionless above the second sealed letter on the silver platter, the pale morning sunlight filtering through the tall stained glass suddenly feeling ice-cold against his skin.
Across the polished mahogany table, the King never shifted his piercing slate-grey gaze, studying Hajin with the unblinking intensity of a hawk circling low.
"Those are not standard bureaucratic dispatches stamped by bored clerks," the King said, his baritone voice reverberating through the spacious chamber.
"I drafted every single line personally with my own quill... placing my royal reputation directly beneath your name," the monarch continued with a firm nod.
"My personal honor rides on both dispatches... and that is not a wager I make lightly with any man," the King added, resting his broad, calloused hands flat against the table.
A suffocating tension settled beneath Hajin's ribs while he stared down at the nearer crimson wax seal catching the morning glare.
