In the grand meeting room of the palace, seven people sat around a large oval table, the atmosphere thick with unease. Helen sat at the far end, her arms crossed and her brow furrowed as she scanned the room. Next to her was Aloy, slouching casually with a smirk that barely concealed the tension beneath. Vic, a burly tank with a grim expression, leaned forward as if ready to confront whatever problem they were about to face. Across from them was Veda, a mage with her staff resting beside her chair, her eyes distant, preoccupied with thoughts of someone who wasn't in the room.
Reynolds, the king, sat at the head of the table, but his mind seemed far from the discussion. His gaze wandered, his fingers drumming softly against the table as if trying to keep himself grounded. The conversation was background noise to him, though the weight of his decisions was clearly taking its toll.
