The next day arrived quietly.
No alarms signalling enemy attack.
No messengers queuing up in a line at the palace doors.
No reports marked urgent in red wax.
No red dots displayed in large quantities upon the system map of the empires controlled territories.
Just sunlight filtering through tall windows, the smell of fresh bread and roasted vegetables, and the rare luxury of an uninterrupted meal.
I sat at a small table set out on one of the palace's inner balconies, overlooking a garden courtyard where fountains trickled lazily and trimmed hedges cast soft shadows.
Across from me sat Serena, posture elegant as always, a light blue dress replacing her usual formal regalia.
To my left was Yuri, armor abandoned in favor of something far more relaxed—simple, practical, and unmistakably her.
It felt… normal.
Dangerously so.
We ate in companionable silence for a while, the kind that only existed between people who had shared battlefields, secrets, and exhaustion beyond words.
