The room, an opulent chamber adorned with rich tapestries and a grand table at its center, was now filled with an uneasy silence.
The guards dragged the lifeless body of the messenger out, the metallic scent of blood still hanging in the air. The nobles and key figures of Arenthia, men of power and influence, exchanged tense glances, the gravity of the situation pressing down on them like a heavy shroud.
At the head of the table sat Lord Valen, a man of considerable stature and presence, his silver hair slicked back, and his sharp eyes surveying the room with a calculated intensity. His cold demeanor was known to all, as was his ruthlessness in matters of the kingdom. He was the King's right hand, the one who dealt with the kingdom's darkest secrets, and his word was often law. Beside him, General Alaric, a towering figure clad in military regalia, bore a grim expression, his jaw clenched as he absorbed the news.
