The Hexagon Hall was not merely a meeting chamber; it was a vacuum of absolute authority where the wills of the realm's most powerful entities collided. From the vaulted ceiling, twenty meters above, hung massive crystal chandeliers blessed by pure light magic. They cast sharp, unforgiving shadows across the circular obsidian table, making every furrowed brow and tightened lip at the center of the room appear like a landscape of jagged terrain.
Lucian Sudrath sat perfectly upright, his hands resting with deceptive calmness on the cold surface of the dark wood. Behind him, Captain Thorne and Borch stood as motionless as iron statues. By royal protocol, they were not permitted to carry their Sudrath Spears—the modified SIG MCXs—into the presence of the King. Yet, the sheer military presence they exuded, honed by the carnage of Northveil, was enough to keep any Royal Guard at the door in a state of constant, twitchy vigilance.
