Vester stands near the main table with Vanessa beside him, poring over the map in front of him. She listens quietly, one hand resting low over her abdomen. It's subtle, but I notice the protective way her fingers curl there. Her expression's tight, unreadable, but I can feel the tension coming off her.
Across the room, Magister Orion speaks softly with Heize. The other Fae's arms are folded, but his stance is alert, eyes flicking toward every noise outside the tent. The Grand Sage stands beside them, his wizened face unreadable as he strokes at his long beard. They're discussing what additional protections can be layered around Wolf's Landing, and I'm grateful—again—for them all.
If I was the only one here... our defenses would be paltry at best.
Not paltry, Grimoire protests. I would have helped.
True.
