Magnus Draykar, the Martial King, sat with the relaxed posture of someone who had long ago transcended concerns about proper meeting etiquette. The air around him seemed to vibrate faintly, as though reality itself recognized that it was in the presence of someone who could rearrange its fundamental laws if the mood struck him.
"So, did you confirm what Arthur said?" Magnus asked, his deep voice filling the room with a quiet authority that made even the dust motes in the sunbeams seem to pause their dance.
Moyong Jeong, standing by the window with his characteristic rigidity, let out a sigh that carried the weight of centuries of familial responsibility. The light streaming through the glass outlined his stern profile, casting half his face in shadow as if to emphasize the duality of the decision before them.
