Chapter 51: Blood at the Table
The mahogany table in the Privy Chamber groaned beneath the weight of scrolls, goblets, and a golden bowl of plums no one had touched. Duke Fenrick was mid-sentence, gesturing with one liver-spotted hand toward a parchment unrolled before him.
"…and as I've said, the grain tariffs from the Southern Vale will cripple river trade unless we issue a royal decree by the end of the fortnight."
"Or," Countess Mira interjected, adjusting the white fox pelt draped across her shoulders, "we could let them starve and see if they learn to spell the word 'loyalty' correctly on their petitions."
A few snorts echoed around the chamber. King Darius remained quiet, fingers steepled, his eyes unreadable beneath the heavy gold circlet on his brow.
