The village chief's face was pale with exhaustion.
His usually neat robes were wrinkled, his eyes dark with lack of sleep.
For a full day and night, he had done everything in his power to stall the royal messenger from the capital—entertaining him with tea, diverting conversation, feigning ignorance, and even pretending Kyle was meditating in seclusion.
But the messenger was stubborn, persistent, and very clearly trained to resist both manipulation and hospitality.
"I must deliver this to Sir Kyle in person. I have orders to hand the message to no one else. Not even to a representative. This is a matter of national importance."
The royal messenger repeated for the fifth time that morning, his voice clipped and formal.
The chief clenched his jaw, trying to conjure yet another excuse, but just as he opened his mouth, the door to the guest room creaked open.
"I'll take it from here, Chief."
