Clay stood in the center of the grand hall, his expression calm, almost indifferent, as if the pressure from every gaze around him meant nothing at all.
The golden light from above cast long reflections across the polished floor, illuminating his figure in a way that made him appear both composed and distant from everything happening around him.
Without hesitation, he lifted his eyes and met the Holy King's gaze directly.
"Your Majesty," he said, his voice steady and unhurried, "our deal?"
The words echoed clearly through the hall.
For a brief moment, silence lingered between them all. Then it was immediately shattered.
"What insolence!"
"How dare you speak to His Majesty like that!"
"Such arrogance from a mere young master!"
The ministers erupted one after another, their voices overlapping, rising in outrage, each one trying to outdo the other in condemning Clay's tone and manner.
