Rhys didn't make small talk.
He stood near the beastcore, arms behind his back, eyes scanning Beli's work with that same perpetual scowl etched into his face like it had grown there on purpose. The floating crystal engine shimmered quietly, runes crawling across its surface in slow rotations. It looked alive. It felt alive.
"That is some fine light magic." Rhys said finally. "Delicate. Precision over spectacle."
No one corrected him.
Then: "Duxor's mentioned your crew. Rare for him. Says your captain has a hand steady enough to etch an array into moonlight."
Arthur said nothing. He didn't have to.
"But I see something else here." Rhys tilted his head slightly, just enough to look at Beli's hand, not his face. "This isn't a solo show. There's another mind in the room, hidden where the audience can't clap for it."
Beli, halfway through a mirrored curve on the core's upper rim, paused.
He didn't say thank you.
But his jaw tilted a touch higher.
