As they gathered, the study still burned low with firelight, stone walls swallowed in stacks of tomes and maps, the heavy oak table spread like the deck of a warship.
Outside, Valeria whispered its nocturnal rituals—hooves on cobbles, tavern laughter snagged on the wind, the distant tolling of a bell—but within these walls silence sat like it were home.
Aric stood at the head of the table, one hand resting against the carved arm like it was another limb.
His council awaiting his next step: Serina, Maxim coiled and ready, Hitoshi's eyes glittering with dry amusement, Kael Draylen composed as always, Borag a hulking presence at the edge, Lady Syenna measured and still.
Maps lay open, inked routes and red pins tracing ambitions; letters and seals from the Draken envoy were stacked, their dangers catalogued.
The fire cracked. Aric broke the quiet.
