A grave and somber atmosphere filled the entire room.
Duke Lancelot stood quietly beside the window while holding a thick cigar between his fingers. His eyes remained fixed on the city outside, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. Beside him, Duke Osantra quietly lit Lancelot's cigar before lighting his own. Neither of them spoke for several moments as the smoke slowly drifted through the room.
After taking a long puff to calm his restless nerves, Duke Osantra slowly exhaled and spoke with a heavy expression.
"Is it really alright to stay here instead of evacuating? I think we should gather all our forces together and leave this goddamned place while we still have the chance. If the Emperor truly makes his move, staying here will only make us easy targets."
As he spoke, a bitter smile appeared on his face.
Lancelot quietly looked at him with a trace of pity.
How could he not understand what Duke Osantra was feeling?
