Bravado

The room fell into a deep, uneasy silence as the weight of my words settled over everyone like a suffocating blanket. The tension was palpable, so thick you could almost taste the acrid sting of it in the air. A man in ornate white and gold robes leaned forward, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. He exuded the kind of authority that brooked no defiance, and he was clearly not used to being challenged.

"You're awfully outspoken for someone in captivity," he sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. His fingers drummed a staccato rhythm on the polished surface of the massive table, a habit born of barely restrained irritation.