Panic seized the Imperator the instant every head in the chamber turned toward him. It was not the shouting or the sudden silence that unnerved him, but the expectation that he must know what to say, what to do.
He did not.
This was his first war, and his understanding of strategy was as thin as a child's grasp on how to forge the sword he was just gifted.
His instinct was to seek the comfort of guidance. Tyros. His uncle had always known what to do when dealing with warfare, though he had been strangely silent since the start. Was he testing him?Did he not understand that was not the moment for that?
But even as the thought crossed his mind, Mesha knew what that would mean. To turn now to Tyros, before all these squabbling lords, would be to proclaim to the court that the boy on the throne was still just that, a boy.
And in times such as these, monarch who were seen as boys didn't last long enough to become men.
