Tiberius could play politics. He had smiled at merchants until their greed showed through their teeth, and he had nodded at petty lords until their pride did the talking for them.
That kind of game had rules. This was something else.
Eldric sat across from him like an older monster wearing a man's face.
Age clung to the senior the way smoke clung to cloth, quiet, stubborn, impossible to brush off.
Beside that, Tiberius felt like a child dressed in adult robes.
He did not try to refute the plan with Eldric. Not with words. Not with schemes. Eldric was strong, and worse, he was sharp.
Tiberius had seen it in the way the man's gaze went past the surface of a gesture and into the intent underneath.
Eldric was not here to play protagonist in Goldkeep Crownmarkets. He was here to blend in, to look harmless, to let other men take the light while he kept his hands clean in the dark.
Tiberius lowered his chin and gave Eldric the obedience that cost the least.
