A long silence stretched between them. Alpheo's gaze lingered on the scaffolds, the pulleys creaking as buckets of soil rose and fell, on the masons trimming stones with careful, measured strikes. Yet his eyes weren't truly seeing the work as much as he was daydreaming about his other business.
Pontus, meanwhile, was nearly sick with worry. He could feel the weight of that silence pressing down on his shoulders.Had he miscalculated? Had his estimate displeased the prince?
"Is everything… fine, Your Grace?" he ventured at last, his voice betraying the unease that gnawed at him. "If there is concern about the time, I assure you the optimistic projection is far more likely than the conservative one. We have yet to encounter any large stone deposits in the other sewers, so there is little indication this one will present such obstacles."
The prince did not answer. He kept staring at the workers below, his face carved in unreadable stillness.
