At the conclusion of the council meeting, the members were dismissed, leaving Magnus and King Maxwell remaining within the throne room. They stood in silence for a while, an unspoken tension between the two.
"It looks like you've had a tough few weeks." The king spoke, his deep tone containing a sense of warmth that was missing just a few minutes earlier.
"I will be fine after some rest, my king." Magnus bowed his head slightly in response.
Instead of replying, Maxwell rose to his feet and approached his son. Without a word, he placed a hand upon the teen's head and ruffled his hair, "You did well. The old you would have probably just yelled at Tyrell and Samuel." He said with a small chuckle.
At this, Magnus felt a grin tug at the corner of his lips. "That was three years ago father… I've matured since then."
"Three years…" The king muttered, his eyes growing distant. It was as if he was remembering something that brought him sadness—yet Magnus didn't interrupt him.
