' Was it enough?' wondered Count Bernarnt as he stood there watching for any reaction from the king. 'Does he have any intention of saving his cousins at all?' Count Bernart pondered, his eyes fixed on the king, questioning whether his action would prove sufficient to save their skin.
His eyes locked on Conradin, trying to discern any hint of mercy or compassion in the ruler's gaze. His thoughts raced, contemplating whether his actions would actually stir any reaction out of the boy.
For the French leaders gathered in the keep, the silence that followed seemed to stretch into an eternity. Every second was fraught with tension, and the weight of their fate bore down upon them like an insurmountable burden.
Finally, after a nerve-wracking pause that felt like hours but had only been moments, the king's voice broke the silence, sending a shiver down Count Bernarnt's spine.
