The court was left shaken after Farrin's arrest. His defiance and bitter parting words hung over the council like a storm cloud, leaving the nobles unnerved. Some shifted in their seats, exchanging worried whispers, while others sat in stony silence, their faces pale. The truth was undeniable: the court itself had been infected with treachery, and Farrin had only been the most obvious symptom.
Damien stood at the center of the chamber, his steel-gray eyes scanning the room. He didn't need to speak to command attention; his presence alone was enough. The king, seated on the gilded throne at the head of the chamber, motioned for quiet.
"Lord Damien," the king said, his voice steady but heavy with exhaustion. "You have rooted out treason within our very walls, and for that, the crown owes you a great debt."
