Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 641: A Council of Cowards

A Council of Cowards

Behind him, William paused, fingers touching the door. His face turned, gentle somehow, yet cold enough to freeze breath.

"Gentlemen," he said, voice dropping to a velvet whisper, "let’s discuss the future of our kingdom... and the boy who thinks he can rule it."

The door swung forward under his push.

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A soft groan came from the hinges when the door opened, letting golden light spill onto the smooth floor, thick and slow like honey. Not big, the room needed no extra space - weight settled in its walls from years of choices made, paths changed without warning. Authority lived here, silent, long before anyone walked through.

Down the middle stood a stretched oval table, hewn from old black timber, marked with wolf shapes lunging silently around its rim. Around it sat deep sofas and tall chairs, placed just so - each tilted slightly toward the frontmost seat, like even the objects knew their place. From above dangled a metal light, wound with thin strands of silver, hanging close enough to brush a forehead; its warm flicker painted gentle darkness across walls, giving the space breath, presence.

Outside, the city breathed low under Leon’s quiet hold. Dust hung in corners where time had settled deep. Cracked pane let slip a draft that tugged at fabric slow. Old paper scent tangled with smoke and deeper things unsaid. Wind slipped through cloth like fingers tracing edges. Noise came blurred, as if walls refused to listen well. Life droned beyond glass but never quite entered here.

Inside, their steps slowed. Boots echoed harder than expected on bare stone. Glances darted - across wood, empty chairs, dark corners - not quite settling. Each face scanned for a place, though none were left to claim.

Forward moved William, steady and sure. Not once did his pace rush, calm instead like someone strolling home after years away.

From that first step, he moved like someone used to silence. The chair waited - high, shadowed, its leather softened by time and touch, shaped around authority. Sitting down came without effort, almost lazy in how natural it felt. One leg swung over the other, slow, unhurried. A beat passed before his fingertips tapped the armrest, twice, gentle but clear - a small noise meant to linger.

"Sit," he said.

Not loud.

Not forceful.

Yet a command so sharp it rooted deep in the bones, where resistance seemed absurd.

Chairs whispered across the cold stones when the nobles rose without delay, each motion held tight by silence.

Closest to William went Viscount Renn, taking the chair without hurry. Slowly he settled, tugging at his coat’s hem, as if straight lines could hide what churned inside. Opposite, Baron Halden sank down, then brushed sweat from his forehead - fast, shaky fingers hoping to go unnoticed. Last came Duke Selmen, oldest among them, moving stiffly, burdened by rank; yet his gaze darted, thin threads of worry woven through it. Far off sat two young lords, hardly past youth, sitting upright, shoulders tight, pretending strength was something they already owned.

Heavy silence filled the room after the final person sat. What hung there was more than quiet - unspoken words pressed down like weight. Fear stayed mute. So did greed. Yet somewhere beneath, a sliver of hope trembled, barely holding.

Back against the chair, William relaxed, like someone ready for an easy night. Not hurrying, his eyes moved between faces, savoring each flicker of tension, each throat that tightened, each shaky inhale caught in silence.

"Now," he murmured, "let’s hear it. Everything."

No one spoke.

One glance bounced to the next, neither willing to move before the other made a cut. A breath hung between them, held back by hesitation instead of hope.

A faint smile tugged at William’s mouth. A hint of warmth showed in his eyes.

"Don’t tell me you’ve grown shy."

Something broke inside Baron Haldan. His will gave way without a sound.

"My lord... when Leon attacked the capital, we were caught off guard." His voice wavered despite his effort to steady it. "None expected King Gary to fall so easily."

Renn swallowed, the sound loud in the tense quiet. "The boy came like a storm. His forces - what little he brought - moved with precision we’ve never seen. It’s... unnatural."

Duke Selmen pulled air into his lungs, slow like smoke through stone. His hands gripped the chair’s edges, knuckles pale. Magic might have done it. Foreign aid could be behind it too. The city is gone now anyway

Out came his words, calm on the surface - yet tension hummed just below. Some elder lords looked at each other, slow and wary, eyes saying what mouths wouldn’t: they’d lived through endings like this before.

One of the younger nobles added quietly, barely louder than the rustle of silk, "And King Gary... he’s still stuck in the Moonstone war. No one knows when he’ll return."

Fear slipped in on feathered feet. The air held its breath as it passed.

Maybe, Renn said quietly, eyes fixed on the wood as if it could split open under his gaze, maybe he won’t come back ever

A moment passes without sound.

Out of nowhere, the breeze nudged the fabric, sending ripples through the heavy cloth. A chime sounded beyond the walls - not near enough to soothe, yet refusing to fade into silence.

A single tap of William’s fingers broke the quiet, right there on the tabletop.

Just once.

Sharp. Final.

"And while all of this happened..." he said, voice smooth as polished steel, "what did the nobles do?"

Halden’s mouth hung loose a moment before snapping shut. Out of silence, words came shaky. "Order... we meant to keep it," he said."

Renn nodded too quickly, desperate to agree. "We held our territories, kept the people calm - "

His head leaned sideways. William moved it slow.

A tiny gesture.

Quiet settled fast, just like that.

You kept things under control, he said again quietly, almost like trying a flavor on his tongue. Such honor in that, maybe

A sharp tone cut through the space, quiet and cold. It moved without noise, yet everyone felt it pass.

Renn went rigid, like a slap had landed. Back in his seat, Halden pulled away. Anything but William’s gaze now held the young nobles’ attention - floorboards, tabletops, whatever was near.

Yet William stayed silent. No shout came. Just that silence, heavy as a blade hanging mid-air - still, sure, sharp with threat.

"Let’s not pretend," he said, his gaze moving slowly from one face to the next, lingering just long enough to make each man feel naked. "Every one of you is here because you’re hoping this chaos... benefits you."

No one answered.

The air itself seemed to tighten, pressing down on the long oak table as a heavy silence dropped over the room, thick enough to choke on. Even the servants at the edges had frozen, eyes lowered, afraid to breathe too loudly.