Charles' Point Of View
I watched the scene unfold on my gravel driveway with a mix of genuine amusement and wary calculation. My hand gripped the silver head of my cane, not because I needed the support, but because it gave me something to occupy myself while my brain raced at a thousand miles per minute. The metal felt cool against my palm, grounding me in a moment that threatened to spiral beyond my control.
When my head of security had buzzed me, his voice trembling like a leaf in a hurricane, to tell me the Corvanni kings were at my gate, I'd almost laughed. Almost. The absurdity of it had nearly broken through my carefully maintained composure. You don't just "invite" the Corvannis.
