Chapter 17
The Diplomat's Wisdom
A wise woman navigates treacherous political waters, seeking peace and safety for her people. Her bravery lies in her intellect and her commitment to diplomacy.
The air in the council chamber hung thick and heavy, a palpable miasma of fear and suspicion. Sunlight, usually a cheerful visitor, seemed to strain through the high, narrow windows, casting pale, anemic shafts onto the polished oak table where men of power, and a single woman, were gathered. My hands, usually steady as they worked the loom or tended the hearth, felt strangely clammy, and I clasped them tightly in my lap, a small, private gesture of self-command. Outside, the distant clang of armor and the murmur of anxious voices were a constant, unsettling percussion to the weighty silence within.
“We cannot abide by this treaty,” Lord Valerius declared, his voice a rumble of displeasure that echoed the discontent rippling through the assembled nobles. “To yield even an inch of our ancestral lands to these barbarians is an insult to our forefathers, a betrayal of our very blood.”
Around the table, heads nodded in grim agreement. Eyes, sharp and accusatory, flicked towards me, the sole woman in this sanctum of war and statecraft. They saw not wisdom, nor a desperate plea for peace, but a feminine weakness, a softness that had no place in the harsh realities of empire.
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