The announcer let out a slow breath through his nose, rubbing his temple with deliberate ease. "You know," he muttered, his tone edged with reluctant consideration, "there's a chance this place could be rebuilt without your help. I do have access to-" He paused, letting the thought hang, as if the words were difficult to admit. In truth, he had no intention of relying on the mages from Glaucus' army, not after nearly losing Valeria Kael. His stomach twisted at the idea, but he masked it well, fingers curling at his sides in feigned frustration. He needed to see Arthur's skills for himself.
Before he could finish, a voice cut in. "I saw you shaking hands. Are we done here?"
Fedlimid strode forward, emerging from the crowd as if he'd been there all along. The interruption landed like a slap, the announcer's wounded pride flaring hotter.
The seafolk tilted his head. "Out of curiosity, for how long have you been mocking me?"
