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Chapter 22: Let’s Make a Vote
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... s last words. The nobles, still surrounded by armed musketeers, watched him with a mix of disbelief and dread. His calmness was unsettling—too composed, too deliberate. He stood among them like a surgeon before an incision.
Then, unexpectedly, Lancelot laughed.
Not a mocking laugh, nor one born of madness—but a short, dry chuckle that echoed oddly in the chamber.
"A vote?" he said, shaking his head slightly. "You actually thought I meant that?"
He turned toward Co ...
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