The silence inside the room stretched out for what felt like an eternity.
Ragnar sat still behind his desk. He stared at the southern scholar standing before him.
The man looked like he was ready to be dragged out to the courtyard and executed, yet he refused to take a step back. He wanted his answer.
"Heh..." Ragnar suddenly let out a low breath that was half-sigh, half-chuckle. He leaned back in his chair.
Richard blinked, thrown off by the reaction. He had expected the Iron King to roar in anger, or call for his guards. He hadn't expected a tired smirk.
"How many times is that now, Richard?" Ragnar asked quietly, crossing his arms over his chest.
"My King...?" Richard stammered, his brow furrowing in confusion.
