After those words were spoken, silence returned. Only the soft breeze flowed through the palace courtyard, rustling the leaves of distant trees. The old man standing behind him did not dare to speak. His face remained calm and expressionless, yet his gaze held unspoken concerns he would never voice.
"Akhola..."
The middle-aged man's voice was calm, yet it carried a weight that was impossible to ignore. He waited for a response from the old man, as if testing something.
"Yes, Master. Akhola is listening."
The old man bowed his head slightly, sharpening his ears to catch every word that would follow.
"Do you think the decision I made was the right one?"
His tone was flat, but there was something hidden within it—a doubt rarely seen in someone usually so full of conviction. He glanced at Akhola, waiting for an answer.
