[Tent of Peace Talk — Afternoon — Continuation]
The silence after Zeramet's words did not break at once.
"…You kept me waiting."
His voice was low, neither loud nor angry, yet the weight behind it pressed on everyone inside the tent like heat before a storm.
For a moment, no one moved. Zeramet's golden eyes remained unblinking and unmoving, locked with Levin's. It was as if the entire council, the war, the vault, and the empires did not exist.
Only that single gaze, then—
"We apologize for making you wait, Malik of Zahryssar." The Emperor of Thalryn spoke at last, his tone formal but respectful.
Levin looked away first, not because he wished to, but because he had to. Zeramet's gaze lingered on him one breath longer, then slowly shifted to the Emperor of Thalryn, his expression returning to that cold, unreadable calm.
"…Take your seats."
The order was simple.
Everyone obeyed.
