Suddenly, the hall went dead quiet. Every gaze in the room shifted toward the back wall, landing on a man leaning casually against the stone near the doorway. He wore a smirk on his face—the same infuriating, confident expression he always carried.
It was none other than Shin.
Shin slowly opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, the sound of unsheathed steel rang through the hall. Dozens of swords were drawn in an instant, their tips pointing directly at him. The glare of the imperial guards was intense, suffocating, as if they were ready to slash him into pieces at the slightest movement.
Yet, even under such immense pressure, Shin's smirk didn't waver.
"Woah! Chill," he said, his tone entirely teasing. He looked past the blades, his eyes locked onto Soren as if he knew exactly what the Emperor would do.
Soren let out a quiet, heavy sigh and slowly raised his hand. "Stop. Let him speak."
The guards hesitated for a fraction of a second before lowering their weapons. Instantly, one of the politicians spoke up, his voice dripping with disdain. "Your Highness, he is nothing but a lowly tutor. His opinion changes nothing."
As if given permission, the rest of the court chimed in. One after another, voices rose in a loud, chaotic wave of agreement, dismissing Shin before he could even start.
Soren's patience snapped.
"I said," Soren began, his voice cutting through the noise like ice. He spoke slowly, each word dripping with a lethal chill that froze the air in the room. "Let. Him. Speak. Do you wish for this hall to become a pool of fresh blood?"
Silence dropped over the hall like a hammer. Many of the politicians stumbled back, their faces turning completely pale with terror.
Soren sighed again, the brief flash of anger fading back into his usual detached calm. He turned his gaze to Shin, giving a subtle nod that signaled him to proceed.
Shin, who had been caught slightly off guard by the sheer coldness of Soren's threat, took a moment to snap back to reality. The smirk returned to his face, though a bit more focused now. He stepped forward.
"Instead of declaring war," Shin proposed, looking around the room, "why don't we form a contract?"
Soren raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Hmm?"
"We can use their current weakness to our advantage," Shin continued, his voice carrying clearly across the silent hall. "Right now they don't have sufficient water on their land. It's a crisis. We can offer them 20% of our water reserves, and in exchange, they give us the territory we want."
The Duke who had originally suggested war folded his arms tightly across his chest, scowling. "And what if they don't agree to the contract?"
Shin's smirk widened at the question. "Oh, they will."
"And what makes you so sure of it?" the Duke demanded.
Shin slowly moved away from the wall, his boots clicking against the marble floor as he walked straight down the center aisle toward the throne.
"Because of the drought, the people in that empire are struggling just to survive," Shin said, his playful tone completely gone, replaced by a sharp, calculating seriousness. "The Emperor of that land loves his people. He will agree to anything if it means he can save the children of his empire."
Shin stopped right at the base of the stairs leading up to the crown seat. He tilted his head up, holding Soren's gaze, waiting for his verdict.
Behind him, the entire crowd remained completely speechless. No one spoke, no one argued—because they all knew that Shin was absolutely right.