Later that same day, the Pavilion was busier than ever.
The scent of seared meat, crisp herbs, and spiced rice wafted through the air like divine perfume, drawing in customers from every street of Caerywn.
It had only been eight days since Emberdrop Pavilion had opened its doors, but it now ran like a beating heart at the center of the capital's common quarter.
Inside the top-floor lounge overlooking the dining floor, Alaric sat in a reclining chair with a goblet of chilled juice, his eyes scanning the movement below—waiters darting gracefully, chefs orchestrating with discipline, and customers smiling with mouthfuls of flame-seared bliss.
Behind him, soft footsteps padded across the carpeted wood.
"Master,"
Aurevia murmured, her hands gently landing on his shoulders,
"you know the company you mentioned earlier? You're planning to build it in the sanctuary, aren't you?"
Alaric smiled, his eyes still on the crowd below.
"Yes."
"I knew it,"
