In the shadowy confines of the chamber, bathed in the soft glow of flickering torches, Aragon and Ariade found themselves immersed in conversation, their words a dance of inquiry and introspection amidst the heady haze of wine and camaraderie.
As the evening wore on and the wine flowed freely, Aragon turned to his young companion with a look of earnest inquiry in his eyes. "Now tell me, Ariade," he began, his voice low and measured, "do you find contentment in the role I have bestowed upon you?"
Ariade, caught off guard by the sudden question, furrowed his brow in confusion. "I... I'm not sure I understand," he admitted, his words punctuated by a nervous scratching of his head.
Aragon's gaze softened with understanding as he pressed on, his tone gentle yet probing. "Are you satisfied with the burden of kingship that now rests upon your shoulders?" he clarified, his eyes searching Ariade's face for any hint of uncertainty.
