The last plates were cleared away, the clatter of silverware replaced by the soft murmur of conversation. Alfraed leaned back in his chair, his single eye scanning the room as the weight of the meal settled in his stomach. Mikaela's hand rested lightly on his arm, her crimson eyes meeting his with a quiet reassurance. Movis, though still sullen, had stopped glaring daggers at him, his attention now focused on the goblet in his hand. Lady Deldasa's laughter had softened into a thoughtful hum, her crimson gaze lingering on Alfraed as if reassessing him. Cyrus leaned back, fingers drumming on the table, his expression unreadable.
"Well," Deldasa said, her voice smooth but carrying a hint of finality, "that was… enlightening." She glanced at Alfraed, her lips curving into a faint smile.
