Arkanos looked over them all—generals, nobles, faithful. Each was a piece in the game, sharpened and placed carefully. His gaze lingered on every face, as if measuring their resolve.
"Akeria builds weapons. So be it. Let them have their muskets and powder. We have unity, purpose, and fire in the belly of our nation." He stood at last, the motion slow and deliberate. His cloak whispered against the stone floor as he rose to his full, commanding height.
"When the banners rise over their walls, when our steel pounds their gates—then they will understand what it means to cross the Empire of Bloodbane." He placed his hand on the map, resting it over Akeria, his fingers splaying with possessive certainty, as if already claiming the land.
"This... is where the world changes."
They all fixed their eyes on the map—some with clenched jaws, others with eager glints, and a few with shadowed, unreadable gazes.
