Florian's thoughts churned in chaos, his mind unable to settle.
'Is this... alright? This is alright, right? To talk to him.' His gaze flicked to Lancelot, whose neutral expression gave away nothing. Unlike Lucius, who was too embittered by his personal grievances against women to care about the princesses, Lancelot was different. Neutral. Calculated, but with a strong sense of justice. Florian could respect that.
'It wouldn't hurt to confide in him. Just a little.'
Taking a deep breath, Florian lowered his gaze to the ground. The soft rustle of grass caught his attention, swaying with the breeze that brushed against his hair. "Am I wrong?" His voice was low, hesitant. "For feeling like... something else could've been done? Mentally torturing the princesses for the sake of a test—it's too much, isn't it?"
Lancelot said nothing, letting the words linger in the air. Encouraged by his silence, Florian pressed on.
