[Lavinia's POV—Imperial Palace—Private Garden—The Next Day]
"…What—" Papa stopped mid-step. "…What kind of situation is this?"
His voice was flat. Too flat. The kind of flat that came right before kingdoms were erased from maps.
I sat serenely in my chair, porcelain teacup in hand, steam curling lazily upward. I looked calm. I was not calm. This was, without exaggeration, one of the most awkward mornings of my life.
In the center of the private garden—under the merciless sun—General Luke stood perfectly straight.
Opposite him, equally unmoving—Captain Haldor.
They stared at each other. Not shouting. Not speaking. Not blinking.
Just… staring.
Cold. Calm. Expressionless. Like two statues competing for dominance.
Papa followed my gaze. His eye twitched.
Theon peeked out from behind Papa's shoulder, squinting. "They have the exact same facial expression…" he whispered. "… Should we just confirm it now and save time?"
Papa didn't even look at him. "Don't say a word, Theon."
