The Last City

The night after their tour of Frostford was tense. Lucien barely spoke during dinner, his mind still occupied with everything he had seen—the struggling miners, the skilled blacksmiths, the unspoken worries on the faces of the citizens. Even as they sat at the grand dining table in their temporary residence, the air between him and Alexander was thick with unresolved tension from their earlier conversation.

Alexander didn't press him, though he stole a few glances in his direction, as if waiting for Lucien to speak. But Lucien didn't. He ate in silence, excusing himself early and retreating to his chambers. Sleep didn't come easily. His thoughts swirled with the weight of responsibility, of duty, of the unrelenting march toward the next phase of their journey.