It’s quiet.
The silence that settled in the audience chamber was filled with a strange tension and desire, hanging in the air.
This kind of atmosphere usually comes from one of two situations:
When a soldier returns after a war and you are about to hear the outcome of the battle.
Or when you hope someone will tell you that it’s possible for someone to defend your country from overwhelming forces.
“Sir Branzilte.”
The king spoke.
His voice was serious, but it trembled ever so slightly, barely perceptible unless one listened closely.
As soon as the king spoke, even the other officials swallowed dryly.
“You have been recommended as the one to stop this invasion.”
Some wore a sly smile.
Others had furrowed brows.
It was clear that this decision was not made with the unanimous consent of everyone present.
“I’ve heard much about you as well. About your tactics and leadership. I believe you’re the only one who can stop this invasion.”
The king’s expression was serious, yet his eyes were filled with anticipation.
He too had a gut feeling.
If this invasion wasn’t stopped, this country, trapped between three powerful nations, would no longer be able to defend itself.
Thus, everything would be placed on the shoulders of the righteous person who could stop the invasion.
Well, I get that much.
“Sir Branzilte, I beg of you.”
Could it be that Sir Branzilte is talking about… me?
The words I muttered inwardly seemed to make my senses nod in agreement simultaneously.
…This is bad.