Amadeus's gaze stayed on Vencian, silent long enough to pull at him more than any words could. Then his voice carried again, lower this time.
"My condolences. What happened to your family was cruel."
Vencian kept his face still. He had heard similar phrases too often in the past weeks. Everyone delivered them, some sincerely, some as performance. He had learned to receive them without reacting. A nod was the safest response.
Amadeus's eyes lingered, sharp yet not unkind. "Your father was a good man. He made choices others would not have had the strength to make. I fought beside him once. I know."
Vencian considered the statement. The memories belonged to a life that felt borrowed, yet hearing them reminded him of what he had lost. Amadeus was implying strength, loyalty, sacrifice—concepts easier to understand than to feel. He tilted his head in acknowledgment. Speaking would require more effort. He wondered if Amadeus expected more. Perhaps he didn't.
