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Chapter 761: The War Council (1)
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... round tar. The grit inside the pot lip—river sand and kiln soot. Mixed here, not brought from elsewhere."
A low murmur rippled through the envoys. The Serewyn man shifted, composure bending just a hair.
Aelthrin stepped back to the canvas and began to draw clean lines with chalk, each stroke an accusation. "Messenger timings. Assaults spike when river traffic thickens. Not when military advantage would be best."
He paused, marking the gap between two days. "They prefer an ...
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