They strolled down the dimly lit corridor, the soft flicker of candlelight casting dancing shadows on the stone walls, leading them to the awaited breakfast. The grand hall they entered was a sight to behold, a long table adorned with meticulously arranged plates of delights: succulent fruits, flaky pastries, fresh bread, creamy butter, and velvety cream. At the hall's end stood a majestic fireplace, logs crackling away, its open hearth bathing the room in a warm, golden glow.
A graceful servant approached Eveloria and, with a deferential nod, guided her to a seat at the table's far end. She settled into the chair, awaiting Tristan's arrival.
The servants began serving their meals, their silent efficiency a testament to their training, and once their duties were fulfilled, they discreetly withdrew.
Amid the fragrant feast, the two newfound companions shared a contemplative silence, their gazes locked in mutual curiosity.
