The tension in the chamber thickened like clotting blood.
The Eastern Continent's leader—a woman with a phoenix-embroidered jacket—spoke first, her words sharp and foreign.
Kain caught only fragments, the rest of the words blurring together: *"Xianzhe"* (sage, he thought?) and *"Xīfāng"* (western, maybe?). Kain could not understand and only recognized some words from old books he'd read, but the disdain in her tone needed no translation.
Her companions shifted behind her. A scarred large man with the jade dragon clasp grunted something low and guttural, his hand resting on the curved blade at his hip.
The younger girl among their trio—her crimson sleeves embroidered with coiling serpents—responded in a voice like wind chimes.
Cassian's fingers tightened around his sword hilt. "Holy Son of the West," he said, his voice dripping with forced neutrality. "I wasn't aware the Church involved itself in... secular trials."
