Damon
I didn’t bother changing out of my armor. I wanted them all to see the blood still drying on the leather. Let them smell the sweat that clung to me like a second skin.
I walked into the council chamber without ceremony, without a word, my boots echoing like war drums against the marble floor.
They wanted a King? Here I was.
The room stilled as I entered. Elders in ceremonial robes turned, pretending to conceal their discomfort at the scent of battle. A few nobles flinched as I passed, their nostrils wrinkling.
The old warriors among them hadn’t seen a battlefield in years. Most of them never had. But they all had opinions.
I reached the center of the chamber and stopped, standing up to my full height and looked at them, one by one.
Jackson stood to the side, watchful. Ron
