Chapter 2 - Whispers in the Council Chambers
The following morning, the Great Hall echoed with the low, rumbling growls of Ithinar’s elite. Mard stood at the head of the long obsidian table, his face flushed with righteous indignation, his supporters murmuring in agreement.
When the heavy iron doors swung open, silence fell instantly.
Aldric entered first, his stride predatory and absolute. But it was the woman walking beside him that made the councilmen bare their teeth. Senna wore no armor today, only a dark tunic and trousers, her hair braided back tightly away from her face. She walked with her head high, ignoring the hostile glares directed at her unranked status.
"This is an outrage," Mard spat, slamming his hand onto the obsidian surface. "A human cannot stand in the high chambers of Ithinar. She is a lowborn interloper who bewitched the Alpha King during a rigged trial!"
Aldric’s eyes flashed gold, a low, warning growl rumbling in his chest that shook the chandeliers. "Watch your tongue, Mard. You sit in this room only because I have not yet decided whether to hang you for treason or exile you to the northern wastes."
Senna stepped forward, placing her hands flat on the table, leaning slightly over it. Her dark eyes locked onto Mard with terrifying calm. "If my presence offends you, Councilor, perhaps it is because my trade proposal exposes how poorly your administration has managed the southern borders for the last twenty years."
She tossed a leather-bound ledger onto the table. It slid across the polished stone and stopped inches from Mard’s trembling fingers.
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"Grain reserves are down thirty percent," Senna continued, her voice cutting through the hall like a blade. "Taxes are inflated, and the Low Field is starving while your personal storehouses overflow. I didn't come here to steal a crown, Mard. I came here to audit your corruption."
Mard’s face drained of color. The council erupted into chaos.
