Inside Castle Thornecrest, in a sunlit chamber reserved for business affairs, Lord Suyed and Lord Powell sat across from each other at a modest table of dark oak, its surface polished to a fine sheen.
Lord Powell glanced at the sideboard, where several bottles were displayed in elegant holders. "I see you still maintain an excellent collection of wine," he remarked, his tone casual, though his eyes lingered appreciatively.
"That is only natural," replied Lord Suyed, "since my lands remain the largest producer of wine in the realm."
"Of course," Lord Powell said with a soft smile.
"I do hope," he continued, "you'll allow me to take a few bottles with me this time. My wife has grown quite fond of your vintages."
"You may take as many as you like," Lord Suyed answered, waving the notion away as if it were beneath consideration. "It would be a shame for them to gather dust when they could be enjoyed by someone with a proper appreciation for their taste."
The wine of Ortenia was known across the kingdom—its vineyards sprawling over the hills and plains like a second skin. In every town and hamlet, someone was pressing, aging, or selling wine. Among the many varieties, one vintage in particular stood apart: a deep crimson wine made from the fruit of the rare Ezir tree, revered for its delicate balance and lingering finish.
"Well then, I thank you for your generosity," said Lord Powell, conveniently ignoring that he had asked first.
He reached into the inner pocket of his coat and withdrew a parchment bearing the royal seal. "This time, however, I have come not only for business—but with an invitation from the king, addressed to your son."
Lord Suyed set down his wineglass and accepted the letter with a nod. He broke the seal and read the contents, his expression composed, unreadable.
There was no need for Lord Powell to gauge his reaction—he already knew what the letter contained. His own son had received a similar summons.
"Is this true?" Lord Suyed asked, his voice low and even.
"If you are referring to the gathering of young nobles organized by the Crown Prince, then yes—it is quite real," Powell confirmed.
Lord Suyed narrowed his eyes slightly. "I doubt you traveled all this way from the capital simply to deliver a letter."
"You are as perceptive as ever," Lord Powell said, smiling once more. "No, I also came to speak of the newly discovered mine."
Lord Suyed said nothing in reply. Instead, he reached for the decanter and refilled the two empty cups between them, the soft gurgle of wine briefly filling the silence.
"I trust," Lord Powell continued after a pause, "that you will do me the courtesy of selling the mining rights to me. A sign of good faith between old friends."
He raised his cup slightly, but Lord Suyed did not yet mirror the gesture. Instead, he sat back in his chair, considering.