The silence after Atlas's words stretched just long enough to become uncomfortable.
The swordsman filled it first, because of course he did.
"Well," he said, still leaning against the wall like the archive was a tavern and the night was young, "this is the part where someone usually draws steel or starts crying. I'm fine with either. Just pick one so I know whether to sober up or pour another."
The wizard shot him a look that could have stripped paint. "One more word and I will seal your mouth until we are back in the palace."
"Promises," the swordsman muttered, but he subsided with a theatrical sigh, as if the threat had cost him a great personal joy.
The emperor did not look away from Atlas. "The White Spire has given the seat ten days before they treat the Brotherhood's river blockade as formal hostility. Southern duchies are already withholding tithes and stockpiling grain. Knight-city coalitions are sharing observation posts.
