Inside the waiting chamber, the silence cracked.
Ren shot to his feet and stepped in front of Amon, his voice rising.
"Hah! Hey, you cloak-wearing errand boy—do you really think I'll let you speak like that and walk away just because you're an envoy?"
The room tensed. A servant near the door froze, pretending to be invisible.
Amon turned his head slowly.
His eyes didn't flash with anger.
They dimmed—with disinterest.
"I merely stated the truth," he said, his voice smooth, like oil poured over steel. "That's all, young master. I bear no ill will toward you."
He paused, letting the words hang.
Then, with a tone dipped in dry mockery, added,"Unless, of course… the truth bothers your stomach. Like undercooked chicken—bloody and hard to swallow."
Ren bristled, fists clenched.
But Amon stepped closer—not aggressive, not rushed.
Just final.
His voice shifted—colder now, with iron beneath it.
"But I believe the young master has forgotten something crucial."
"I'm not speaking as myself."
"I speak for the King of Gorgoroth."
He let that name drop like a sword hitting the floor.
"The man who rules three-tenths of the world. The one whose banner silences clans like yours. When I speak here, it is not my voice alone—it is his."
His crimson gaze narrowed slightly.
"So, when you mock me, you mock him."
"And when you laugh at me… you laugh at the throne."
A pause.
The silence deepened.
"That, young master, is not mere arrogance. It is grounds for war."
He let the threat simmer, low and steady.
"And I don't think," Amon whispered, "you're foolish enough to provoke the King of Gorgoroth... over your pride."
Ren's jaw tightened, but he barked back anyway.
"Hmph! You think our clan fears that old man sitting on Gorgoroth's throne? You don't even know, do you? The Kingdom of Valdareth—and the other three tribes—are preparing to obliterate your precious kingdom."
The words slipped out fast, venomous.
Too fast.
A beat later, sweat beaded on his forehead. His pupils shrank.
Shit.
His thoughts spun like a broken wheel.
"What did I just say…? Oh gods, my father's going to skin me alive. No—he'll feed me to the damn hounds. I need to fix this."
Amon raised an eyebrow, his voice low and deliberate.
"What war—"
But Ren cut him off, hands flailing slightly.
What I meant was—I'm not afraid. Personally. Me alone. No kingdom stuff. Totally neutral." forced a chuckle. A terrible one.
Amon simply stared at him—calm, unblinking, unimpressed.
Then sighed, as if lecturing a child who spilled ink on the royal map.
"Young master," Amon said, "even if you lack sense… try not to speak sentences that weigh thousands of lives. Some words can't be taken back."
Ren laughed nervously, wiping his forehead.
"Yes… he's stupid. Thank the gods. He probably thinks I just slipped up. He'll ignore it. He'll let it go."
But Amon?
Amon didn't blink.
"How predictable," he thought. "He said it—just like I knew he would. Even if he hadn't, I already planned for it. The Iron Legion prepares for war. They think we'll be on defense… but I'll be at their gates before their generals sharpen their blades."
He folded his arms, his voice quiet but sharp enough to cut bone.
"Confirmation acquired."
Ren roared in anger, "Did you call me stupid?"
But Amon ignored Ren's outburst entirely.
Instead, he turned slightly toward the tall obsidian window, his gaze narrowing—not on the city outside, but on something unseen.
"It's been a while since he began observing us."Those eyes—sharp, practiced, silent—had been fixed on him for several minutes now."And I doubt this fool beside me even notices. It must be him... Kael Draven Ironborn."
He didn't turn or react. He waited.
"Let's see how long he keeps watching from the shadows before stepping into the light."
And then—The great gates creaked open.
From the crimson corridor beyond, a heavy presence entered. A man stepped forward, the sound of his boots echoing with grim finality.
His black hair was cut short and neatly swept back, and a thick stubble lined his sharp jaw. A heavy black short coat trimmed in silver hung from his broad shoulders, and his steps were slow—but not cautious. Measured. Controlled.
He was shorter than Amon by a head, but his body told a different story—thick with power, carved like a warrior who had earned every scar. Each movement of his arms beneath the coat revealed arms corded with muscle—like ironbound cords.
The room's temperature seemed to shift as he entered.
Amon turned slightly. Their eyes met.
Kael Draven Ironborn.
The Lord of Ironborn City. One of the few clan leaders powerful enough to govern independently under the shadow of kingdoms.
A veteran of war. A legend to some.
To Amon?
Just another piece on the board.
Kael spoke, voice rough but steady—like crushed stone smoothed by age.
"So… Gorgoroth sends a shadow instead of a flag."
His eyes locked on Amon's.
"Interesting choice."
But before Amon could reply, Ren quickly stepped in, plastering on a smile.
"Ah, Clan Leader, how have you been? Did you try the elixirs I gave you last time? I poured my entire fortune into them! Guaranteed to make your skin glow—whether your day is good or not!"
Kael didn't even glance at him.
His eyes, sharp and calculating, were locked solely on Amon.
To him, it was as if Ren didn't exist.
Amon scoffed faintly at the exchange, then stepped forward with a graceful bow—elegant, yet not submissive.
"My greetings, senior," he said, voice steady and composed."I am Amon, disciple of Asgaroth Velkran—the current King of Galorath."
A subtle silence fell.
Kael still didn't speak.
But his mind was already moving.
"So… the letter was real," he thought, eyes narrowing.
"But this one… his power is masked—almost nonexistent. It's as if he's no different from a mortal demon with no cultivation… and yet—those eyes."
Kael's gaze sharpened.
"The way he speaks. The calm. The calculated timing. The lack of fear… it's as if he's seen this entire conversation unfold already."
"He's dangerous."
"Too dangerous to take at face value."
Kael finally spoke, slow and cool.
"So… Galorath sends not a sword, nor a herald—but a shadow in fine robes."
The words were both an observation and a warning.