The central command tent was a full of activity, with commanders and scribes moving quickly to finalize plans.
Parchment maps, detailed troop placements, and logistical estimates sprawled across the table like the anatomy of a battlefield waiting to come to life.
Kael felt the tension in the air, a weight that pressed down on everyone inside the tent.
This wasn't a council of nobles, it was a crucible, where the fate of kingdoms would be forged.
Kael adjusted his cloak, glancing around the room.
The King sat at the head of the table, a figure of authority and expectation.
To his right, Duke Rynard stood stiffly, his fingers tracing routes on the map.
Further down, Duke Lothar, Kael's territorial overlord, leaned back in his chair, watching the proceedings with a hawk's gaze.
When the King finally raised his hand, the murmurs ceased instantly.
