"You're saying the King might use this as a pretext for war?" Mandela set down his teacup, lost in thought. "But it doesn't seem like a war would do us any good."
"I'm starting to think your brain is made of muscle, Mandela," the Lord said, exasperated. "Who cares if a war actually breaks out? We can use the threat of war to have the Cabinet Ministers wrangle with them. As long as they squeeze something out of it, even I, the victim, will at least get a sip of the broth."
"That still has nothing to do with me," Mandela said, rolling his eyes.
At the same time, he was astounded by Levi's thick skin. 'To so brazenly call himself the victim... If Kemish, the man hanging from a post outside, heard that, he'd probably pass out from sheer anger.'
