In a spacious room overlooking a calm sea, the three monarchs gathered around a round table made of black stone, etched with ancient names of their kingdoms.
King Taril was the first to speak, his eyes fixed on the map before him:
"My kingdom hasn't faced any attacks. No cities, no villages, no supply routes... nothing."
Queen Elyria responded coldly as she flipped through a document in her hands:
"Neither has ours. Our lands remain completely untouched. The only target... was the arena."
King Yaram lifted his gaze, his face lined with the wrinkles of worry and contemplation. His silence lasted longer than usual, until he finally looked down at the map without saying a word.
Elyria continued, her tone harsh and devoid of emotion:
"Simply put… those who survived deserve to remain. Either through strength... or luck."
Taril suddenly raised his head, his brows furrowed:
"Is that how you speak of the dead? Of those who fought to protect us?"
