"So tell me, Lucien…" Arthur's voice was calm, yet beneath it pulsed a storm. "Do Chronos truly have the guts to go to war against Keldoria?"
He leaned forward on his lion-carved throne, his gaze glinting like steel in torchlight.
"Is it really worth losing the war against Elysia… over nine million gold coins? Think carefully. Even if we honored the full agreement, you'd receive one million per year. But if you push us into war…" He paused, letting the words cut through like a blade against the neck. "How many soldiers will die? How many cities will burn? What will the war cost Chronos, Lucien?"
Lucien Vale froze. His gaze met Arthur's—and in that moment, he saw it.
Madness.
Not the loud, frothing kind. This was something far more dangerous: a cold, calculated derangement. A ruthless clarity that only a man cornered by power and vision could possess. Arthur Tesla wasn't bluffing.
He would burn his entire kingdom to the ground—just to deny Chronos its pound of gold.
