"You've returned without announcement," said King Thomas with a slight smirk, his fingers elegantly sliding a knight into position. "I should be insulted, Berith."
Berith raised a brow, then slowly moved a pawn forward. "I prefer to move like the wind, Your Majesty. Silent and unseen."
Thomas let out a low chuckle. "Still the poetic war hound, I see."
They sat across from each other at a grand obsidian chessboard. Though a simple game, it had often served as the backdrop for their most serious conversations.
"Tell me," Thomas said, his gaze flickering to Berith. "How was your stay at Ashenholt?"
Berith leaned back, folding his arms loosely over his broad chest. "It was good."
"Well…?" the King prodded, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Well," Berith gave a half-shrug, "It was as expected. Cold in the halls, warm in the chaos."
