Champions

For the first time since stepping foot in this godforsaken meeting room, I actually took a moment to process the atmosphere.

And oh.

Oh, it was delicious.

The sheer, palpable horror on every noble's face. The way nobody moved, nobody spoke, nobody even breathed.

If I listened closely, I was pretty sure I could hear a few souls quietly ascending to the afterlife.

My eyes scanned the room.

Every single noble looked like they had just witnessed a ghost.

Or worse—me.

Uncle Felix, ever the man of composure, had gone completely still, eyes so wide I half-expected them to pop out of his skull.

Grandpa Roderic, usually the one holding some unbothered old man wisdom, had his drink frozen midair, the glass tilted at an awkward angle, spilling a slow trickle of wine onto his sleeve.

Aunt Ana, who could normally talk her way out of a war crime—had her lips parted slightly, like her brain had short-circuited.