"Your Highness's presence graces us; I am beyond honored."
As soon as Thales stepped into the guest room, he saw Federick Kevendill sitting alone in the parlor, facing the door, gently rubbing the teacup he held in his hands.
His complexion was sallow, his clothes simple, making him look gaunt and frail, almost like an ascetic monk.
A stark contrast to the man who had burst into the selection meeting under the public's watch, mad and desperate.
Thales said nothing and simply took a seat opposite Federick.
The chair was made of hard wood, somewhat uncomfortable to sit on. Thales looked down and noticed that the cup beside his hand contained the plainest of teas; the liquid so light it was almost clear.
"Have they been mistreating you?" Thales mused.
Clearly, the room where Federick was under house arrest was right across from Jann, but everything from the furnishings and decorations to food and clothing was much inferior to that of his duke cousin.
