The next morning arrived far too quickly.
I found myself seated at the long dining table alongside Mother, Father, and Maribel. The atmosphere was surprisingly peaceful compared to the chaos of the previous day. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows while servants quietly moved around the room serving breakfast. With my right arm still injured, I ate using my left hand, a task that remained far more irritating than I cared to admit.
[Host you could draw with your left? What's so different from eating with it.]
'I dont know Nero, eating with your right hand just feels more natural and better. Anyone could draw with their left hand and it would not be anything special.'
[Host you are the only one who feels that way.]
Father appeared distracted. Every so often his expression would darken before returning to normal. It was obvious his thoughts remained occupied by the prisoner from yesterday and the information he intended to deliver to the King.
