Gorvasha's eyes flashed with a silent, lethal promise, and Cassandra merely offered a cool, regal nod, both of them absorbing the command with the grace of seasoned warriors.
Rex leaned back, his massive frame reclaiming the throne with an air of absolute, unshakeable dominance. He looked at the council, his gaze sweeping over them with the bored indifference of a god looking at insects.
"Questions go through Pavellia," he commanded, his voice hardening, the playfulness vanishing to reveal the cold, ruthless architect beneath. "Do not mistake my presence for an invitation to chatter."
"I am not available for administrative trivialities. If it isn't a matter of life, death, or empire, don't waste my breath."
He let the finality of his words hang in the air, a heavy, suffocating curtain of authority. The council members bowed their heads, the message received. Rex was the sun around which they would orbit, and he had no intention of being bothered by the dust.
