Not long after the initial meeting ended, it was time for Leonhardt to speak to the council ministers about the dungeon and other issues.
The formal gathering had dissolved, but the core figures remained—each one seated in the inner ring of the chamber, their chairs positioned in a semi-circle around Leonhardt's obsidian throne.
The firelight had dimmed. The ceremonial aura had faded. Now, only the real work remained.
"Hanz," Leonhardt called from his throne, voice steady.
The forge master stirred.
With the rhythm of a boulder shifting, Hanz stood from his stone bench, dragging a long shape wrapped in black cloth. Even wrapped, the weight of the weapon was obvious—it hummed softly with embedded heat, leaving faint scorch marks across the floor as it moved.
Leonhardt's eyes narrowed, focused on the huge item, leaning to the side with a faint smile.
"Is this... a normal weapon?"
"Hn."
Hanz dropped the weapon with a thud. The cloth didn't move. He waited.
Click. Click. Tap.
