King Julius went silent.
Not the heavy, theatrical silence he often used when addressing the masses, not the calculated pause of a ruler weighing words for effect. This was different. This was the kind of silence that crept in when a man's expectations shattered too quickly for his mind to catch up.
Razeal stood there, the Trident of the Sea resting in his hand as if it belonged there, as if it had always been waiting for him. Not trembling. Not resisting. Not rejecting at all. The sacred weapon that had crushed the dreams of countless Atlantians.. royals, nobles, warriors, emperors.. now rested quietly in the grasp of a human. And worse than that, the human was calm about it. No awe. No reverence. No trembling excitement. Just… acceptance.
