The meeting should have carried on with talks about Ishmar.
Instead, somehow, it became about land.
Leon sat at the head and watched the discussion drift further and further away from reality.
The initial concern had been reasonable.
Ishmar was moving an army. A large one.
No one knew why.
No one knew what they wanted.
No one knew whether they intended peace, alliance, intimidation, or something worse.
Those were sensible concerns. The kind that deserved serious attention, careful planning, the full weight of every experienced military mind currently sitting around the table.
Then someone mentioned the dragon's world. Everything had gone downhill from there.
"The alliance cannot simply be dissolved," General Drava of Solmara said. "The strategic value of the gate remains substantial."
"Strategic value?" an Aldorian noble echoed.
"The land beyond."
A murmur passed around the room.
Leon pinched the bridge of his nose. Not this again.
It seemed Ishmar's imminent arrival made them impatient. He didn't get why though. Ishmar would arrive when it arrived. Whatever it wanted, it would want when it got here. Nothing decided in the next hour would change that.
"The daylight alone would revolutionize farming." One carried on.
"The mineral wealth has not even been assessed."
"The opportunities are unprecedented."
Opportunities.
That was the word everyone kept using. Not danger. Not uncertainty. Not 'the dragon lives there and has opinions'
Opportunities.
Leon looked around the tent.
Were they serious?
Apparently they were.
"The alliance defended the gate together," another Solmaran officer said. "If access is established, distribution should be equitable."
"Equitable?" an Aldorian commander snapped. "The gate is in Aldorian territory."
"Through chance."
"Through sovereignty."
"Through luck."
The argument immediately split into three separate arguments.
Leon leaned back.
Somewhere along the way maps had appeared. He still wasn't sure where they'd come from. People were pointing at places they had never visited. Drawing imaginary borders across a world nobody owned. A world they knew almost nothing about, whose only known inhabitant was a dragon capable of ending civilization, and which had not - in any version of any conversation Leon had participated in or even informed the people sitting here - given anyone permission to draw lines on it.
"The northern regions should fall under joint administration-"
"There are no northern regions."
"There will be."
"Based on what?"
"The visible terrain."
"You can see ten miles!"
"Which is more than enough-"
Leon stared.
They were actually doing it.
They were dividing it up.
His eyes drifted toward the tent opening. Beyond it, the Horizon Gate shimmered in the distance. A wound in reality.
A miracle or a catastrophe waiting to happen. A mystery.
And everyone in this room was discussing settlement rights.
He suddenly felt very tired.
"The dragon's cooperation can be secured."
Leon froze.
The words cut through the room. Several people nodded. One even started taking notes.
The dragon's cooperation.
Secured.
Like they were discussing a trade agreement. Like the dragon had signed paperwork. Like it was some exceptionally large horse that could be stabled and fed and made useful.
The arguments continued.
Louder now. More confident. The assumptions built upon assumptions. Colonies. Trade routes. Territory. Agriculture. Mining rights. Military protection. Resource distribution.
Not one person asked the dragon. Not one person considered that it might say no. Not one person in this room, Leon realized, had stood in an empty field and looked up at an eye the size of a house and understood, in their bones, what it actually meant to be in the presence of something that old and that large.
They were working from reports. From survey maps. From the comfortable distance of people who had watched through spyglasses while he had walked across the grass alone.
Leon stared at them.
The dragon was ancient, wise, terrifying. It had shown him more respect than he had earned.
And somehow these people had collectively decided it was now part of the kingdom's future development plans.
A laugh escaped him.
Nobody heard it. The room was too busy arguing.
"...the alliance deserves proportional access-"
"...Aldoria bears the risk-"
"...shared administration is only reasonable-"
"...exclusive claims are unacceptable-"
Someone stood.
Someone else stood.
Chairs scraped. Voices rose.
The discussion was rapidly approaching a brawl.
Leon looked around the room. Really looked. These were intelligent people. Experienced people. Leaders. People who had managed impossible logistics, coordinated armies across vast distances, held a fragile alliance together through months of genuine crisis.
And somehow they had all managed to become idiots together.
The realization irritated him far more than it should have. Ishmar was moving an army. The gates still existed. A dragon that could erase every kingdom represented in this tent before lunch bordered them.
And they were arguing over land they didn't own.
Something inside him snapped.
Leon stood. His chair toppled backward, his hand came down.
Hard.
*CRACK.*
The sound wasn't loud.
Just sharp.
Sharp enough to cut through every voice in the tent.
Silence fell instantly.
Leon hadn't even realized he'd struck the table.
All eyes turned toward him.
For a moment nobody spoke. Nobody moved. The room waited.
Leon looked at them, something between exhaustion and anger finally catching up to him.
"Shut up."
The words came out low. Almost a growl.
Not shouted. Not even particularly loud.
Yet they filled the tent completely, the way certain sounds filled spaces - not by volume but by weight.
No one answered.
Good.
Because Leon was fairly sure if one more person mentioned mining rights he was going to lose whatever remained of his patience.
He took a breath. Then another.
Then decided he didn't want to be here anymore. Without another word he turned and walked toward the exit.
No one stopped him. No one dared.
The Sword Saint fell into step behind him immediately.
The tent flap closed.
Silence remained.
For several long moments nobody moved. All their gazes set downward.
The table was gone.
Not entirely gone, just no longer functioning as a table. A jagged fracture ran from one end to the other. The thick hardwood split apart, metal reinforcements twisted outward like bent wire. Maps slid into the jagged crack, a cup tipping over and falling through the gap.
Then, gradually, breathing resumed.
General Drava swallowed.
A noble wiped sweat from his forehead.
Someone quietly sat back down.
All eyes drifting toward the remains of the table. The destruction.
No spell circle. No incantation. No visible magic. Just a single strike from a man who hadn't even glanced down to see what his hand had done on its way to ending the conversation.
Outside, Leon rubbed his forehead.
"I think I overreacted."
The Sword Saint was silent. Leon glanced sideways.
"Do you think I overreacted?"
"No."
"Good."
They walked another few steps.
Then Leon slowed.
"Wait."
The Sword Saint looked at him.
"Did I break the table?"
"...Yes."
Leon frowned.
"How?"
The Sword Saint offered no answer.
Leon stared at her helmet. "That's not a rhetorical question."
Silence.
Leon sighed.
Somehow, he suspected, this was going to become another rumor.