The walk through the castle continued in tense silence. King Eroan strode ahead, flanked by two Castle Wardens on either side, their polished armour gleaming faintly under the soft glow of enchanted sconces lining the walls. Behind them, Luke and Ilyrana followed, their steps echoing softly against the stone floor.
The silence was thick, broken only by the occasional clink of a Warden's gear as they adjusted their stance. For a time, Luke's attention wavered between the intricate carvings on the walls—scenes of elven history, no doubt—and the man in front of him.
King Eroan had been silent since finishing his earlier monologue about Hematheas, and Luke suspected it wasn't just to let the grandeur of the surroundings speak for itself. This was calculated. King Eroan wanted Luke to sit in silence and feel the moment's weight.
But Luke wasn't that easy to rattle.
