The word "pest" landed sharply in the small hut, made sharper by how calmly she said it. It wasn't hatred in her tone, just a blunt framing, like naming rain wet.
Redd's ears flicked with irritation, and Tull's mouth tightened immediately, a soldier's pride rejecting the label even as his mind listened.
His displeasure was immediate, contained only by discipline and by the fact Ludwig sat unbothered. Tull's grip shifted subtly, not reaching for the sword again, but reminding himself it was there.
"Let her finish," Ludwig said before anyone spoke.
The command was quiet, but it cut cleanly through the brewing argument. Ludwig didn't look up when he said it, as if interruptions were an inconvenience he refused to entertain.
