The soft golden light of the chandeliers cast warm reflections over the polished oak table that ran the length of the Zehntner estate's dining hall.
Candles flickered in ornate brass holders, their flames dancing to the faint crackle of the hearth behind Bruno's chair.
Heidi was the picture of serene nobility, seated at his right, her hair pinned in a classical bun, a faint smile playing on her lips as she passed a basket of dark rye bread to Alya.
"It almost feels like we're back in Berlin...." she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "Before the world demanded so much."
Bruno didn't reply immediately. He watched as Erwin carved into the roast, distributing slices of beef to each plate with the precision of a soldier turned statesman.
"The world will always demand," Bruno finally said, his voice like quiet gravel. "But that does not mean we cannot take evenings like this for ourselves."
