When the applause finally faded and the hall emptied, a lingering quiet settled over the Royal Engineering Exchange. The treaty sat upon the oak table, the twin seals of Britain and Fonseine gleaming faintly in the lantern-light. For a moment, Phillip allowed himself to simply stand there, staring at the parchment.
Not with pride.
Not with relief.
But with the deep, weighty awareness that something irreversible had begun.
Henry approached with his hands behind his back, rocking slightly on his heels.
"Well," he said, "it's done. Signed, sealed, and stamped by two entire governments. You should smile."
Phillip rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I am smiling. Internally."
Henry snorted. "If that's your smile, I pity whoever writes your biography."
