The scent of freshly watered lilies hung faintly in the air, mixing with the earthy fragrance of soil. Varric, dressed in his deep crimson robes, stood calmly beside a low marble bench, holding a small carrot in one hand as he fed it to the pure white rabbit nestled at his feet.
But the moment he caught sight of Garran entering through the tall gates, his calm expression hardened into one of sharp.
"What is the news from Elandor?" Varric demanded, his tone cutting through the air like a blade. There was no greeting, no pretense of civility, only impatience and authority.
Garran froze mid-step. His face had already gone pale during the journey back, but now, standing before the prime minister's piercing gaze, it drained completely of color. The weight of failure pressed down on his shoulders like an iron mantle. He knew what awaited him, Varric's wrath was infamous across the kingdom.
