Very carefully indeed, because Alaric's silence had been killing him since.
The Crown Prince had yet to utter another single word to him, not even a nod. He sat regal and still, his sharp profile betraying no interest, but Lucian caught how his eyes followed Reniel whenever he shifted in his seat or spoke.
Alistair, on the other hand, was a nutcase for Lucian. He was already getting uncomfortable with the way Alistair looked at him, as if he had committed one treasonous act. His eyes studied Lucian like one studies a chess piece they aren't sure is worth keeping on the board. Still, he didn't say much either. He only tapped his ringed fingers lightly on the table, his gaze moving back and forth between Reniel and Lucian with faint curiosity.
Finally, it was Sebastine who broke the silence.
"You seem rather uncomfortable," he said, voice calm but laced with something close to amusement. "First time attending a gathering like this?"
Lucian straightened. "Something like that, my lord."
"Hm," Sebastine replied, leaning back slightly, his hand resting easily on the table's edge. "Well, you are Reniel's guest and his subordinate, so feel comfortable. Any guest of Reniel is highly welcome."
Reniel smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair from his face.
"Thanks, Lord Sebastine," he said, then turned to Lucian. "Be comfortable. You might be joining me at events like this in the future."
Lucian nodded. "It will be an honor."
Well, Lucian didn't give it much thought. Since he was a subordinate working under Reniel, it was normal for him to attend some of these influential parties.
The response earned him three distinct reactions. Sebastine arched a brow but said nothing. Alaric's jaw tensed ever so slightly, but Lucian noticed. Alistair's lips curled in the ghost of a smirk.
Lucian sat still, resisting the urge to fidget.
"Seems like these three big daddies respond more to Reniel's words than I expected," he thought, watching how subtly their expressions shifted when Reniel spoke. It wasn't obvious affection, but it was there in how they listened, in how their attention lingered on him even when someone else was speaking.
Alaric finally spoke, his voice low and precise.
"You said your name is Lucian?"
Lucian nodded. "Yes, Your Highness."
Alaric's gaze held his a moment longer than necessary. It wasn't welcoming. Not hostile either. Just... assessing.
"And where exactly are you from?" Alistair asked, lifting his goblet. "You don't look local."
"I'm from the south. Austvile," Lucian said smoothly.
Thank God he had asked Erin about his background earlier, because he didn't recall the novel mentioning where he was from.
"Austvile?" Sebastine echoed, like the word amused him. "The old city of Elaric, known for its beauty and knowledge."
"Yes, my lord," Lucian replied with a proud smile.
Sebastine tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharpening with cool precision.
"Well, you don't look like a scholar."
Lucian offered a small, measured smile. "I've heard that once or twice."
He hadn't heard anything. In his real world, the only things he had ever read were novels and school books. Though he wasn't a dull brain in school, he definitely wasn't a scholar.
Sebastine gave a quiet, "Alright," and said nothing further.
The air around the table was still. Too still. Like the hush before a storm, or probably a tsunami. Lucian could feel the weight of their attention. Not loud, not cruel—just calculated.
Alistair, who had been mostly silent for some time, finally spoke, his voice calm but his eyes sharp.
"So, Lucian of Austvile? I thought the southern folk rarely crossed their borders, let alone for a royal tutor position. So why did you insist on crossing?"
Lucian kept his posture composed, careful not to fidget.
"Curiosity, my lord. I wish to expand my knowledge, and Lord Reniel, known for his vast intellect, can help guide me."
Reniel glanced his way briefly, offering nothing but a faint nod. Just enough to confirm Lucian's words.
Alaric remained wordless. His dark gaze never left Lucian, and though his hands rested idly near his goblet, the tension in his shoulders said enough. He was listening. Calculating.
"Curiosity and knowledge," Alistair echoed, slowly, as if weighing the words. "I must admit, you speak really well."
Lucian gave a slight nod. "I was raised around scholars and men of wisdom, my lord."
There was no amusement in Sebastine's face as he leaned back slightly, fingers brushing the edge of his wineglass.
"And yet you sit like someone trained to observe, not speak."
Lucian met his gaze evenly.
"Observation is a skill my city values."
Sebastine's eyes narrowed a fraction before shifting away.
"He's a new one, isn't he?" he asked, this time addressing Reniel.
"He is," Reniel replied with composed ease. "But sharp and calculative. That's why I chose him."
That drew Alaric's attention again. His stare settled on Lucian briefly, but there was something behind it. Not distrust. Not approval either. Just pressure. As though he were trying to peel Lucian open without using words.
"And you brought him here?" Alistair asked, his voice quieter this time.
Reniel didn't hesitate.
"Where better to gauge his spine?"
That response earned a faint raise of the brow from Alistair. For a moment, the younger prince's gaze moved from Reniel to Lucian and back again, as if silently noting something.
Sebastine said nothing more, but Lucian noticed how the general shifted slightly, one boot angled just enough to suggest readiness. Not aggression. Just presence.
Lucian didn't dare misread it.
They were watching him. But it wasn't just about him.
It was about Reniel.
They didn't need to say it aloud. The way Alaric's gaze lingered on Reniel's profile, the slight edge in Alistair's tone, the unbending silence from Sebastine—solid and sharp like steel—it all whispered the same truth.
Respect and Reniel. Those were the only two things that mattered at this table, and in this hall.
And by sitting here, by being acknowledged even for a moment, Lucian understood something very clearly. He wasn't just being tested for who he was.
He was being weighed for who he might become around Reniel.
So, he stayed silent a moment longer, then lowered his head slightly in quiet respect. Not submission. But understanding.
Because in a room full of wolves—or probably obsessive lovers—the smartest thing a fox could do was listen and observe.
And stay alive.