Crimson Dragon Order

TAP. TAP. TAP.

The slow, rhythmic sound of Craig's finger tapping against the right armrest of his ironwood throne echoed through the vast, cavernous hall.

The Audience Chamber was trapped in a dreadfully tense, suffocating silence.

Not a single knight dared to clear their throat, shift their footing, or let out a loud breath.

Dozens of battle-hardened martial practitioners kept their gazes respectfully lowered toward the marble floor, patiently waiting for their sovereign lord to emerge from his deep contemplation.

For several minutes, Craig remained motionless, his golden-crimson eyes staring into the air as his mind weighed the geopolitical board.

Finally, sensing the prolonged silence settling like lead over the room, Craig shifted his posture and broke the quiet.

"Ser Hughway," Craig called out, his voice sharp and absolute.

The silver-haired Sword Master immediately stepped forward, bowing his head. "My Lord Viscount."