They walked in silence toward the lower gate of the Bastion, the lush autumn grass cushioning their footsteps. Beneath the green, a carpet of dried leaves lay hidden; with every step, a sharp, brittle screech echoed up in the air as they shattered under their boots, like the snapping of dry bone.
Neither man spoke. Pontus had retreated into a defensive stillness, fearing he had finally overstepped the bounds of the Prince's patience. Alpheo, however, felt a pang of guilt. He had silenced the man with the bluntness of a hammer, and the resulting quiet was far more oppressive than the engineer's technical chatter.
In the silence that had ensued, of the two Alpheo was the first to speak.
"I apologize for my tone before, Pontus. It was ill of me . It was not my intent to be hostile. I simply... I find myself needing silence to organize the chaos in my mind. These are, as you might imagine, stressful hours."
