"What could possibly be larger than thousands of iron soldiers pounding at our mountain gates?!"
The sharp bark from the Dwarven elder still echoed, bouncing off the black volcanic walls of the Stone Council Chamber. Searing heat surged from the blue forge fire behind the dais, as if boiling in tandem with their fury.
Every pair of glowing red eyes remained locked onto the single bound man standing in the center of the hall.
Roland Sudrath didn't budge an inch.
The young diplomat's hands were still bound in coarse leather knots. His dark blue coat was grime-stained and torn. Yet his gray eyes burned as cold as the glacial winds of the Eastern Mountains.
A suffocating silence hung in the air for several seconds. Roland intentionally let it linger.
Then, the corner of his lips tugged upward into a faint smirk.
It wasn't a smile begging for mercy, but the subtle sneer of a noble watching a child whine over a broken toy.
