And now… The moment the King cleared his throat, I knew. This wasn't going to be small talk. This wasn't going to be thank you, eat more honeyed pheasant.
This was the part where history quietly tilted.
King Maden folded his hands atop the table, rings glinting under the chandelier light. When he spoke, his voice carried carefully measured weight, the kind that had ruled kingdoms longer than most people lived.
"Lady Seraphine," he began, "on behalf of the Kingdom of Maden… thank you."
The room stilled. He spoke of gratitude first. Of how the crisis had been resolved with minimal damage, and yes, I heard the pause when he mentioned Segundo. His prodigal son. His traitor. His dead child. The ache was there, buried under duty, and for once I didn't mock it. Losing a son, even a monstrous one, was still losing a son.
