For a long time, all Alpheo received in return were the stares of the Oizenian party, a messy soup of confusion, insolence, and raw disbelief at what he had just demanded.
Perhaps the reality of their station had finally begun to dawn on them as time passed, or perhaps the weight of the moment was simply too heavy a stone to lift away from their back. Alpheo couldn't find it in himself to be surprised; he was, after all, stripping them of their ancestral cradle, the very stone and mortar that defined their bloodline. But war was a cruel host; when one sat at its table, they either left fed or were forced to foot the bill.
Alpheo remained silent through it all, a statue of blackened steel, letting the silence do the work of a thousand swords. He waited until the air itself felt ready to snap before Menna finally mustered a response.
