"Lord Louis has arrived," the attendant softly reported from outside the door.
Before she could respond, the door gently opened.
Louis Calvin came through the snow, draped in a black cloak, with a fur armor and badge still hanging on his shoulders, snow clinging to his boots as if he had just stepped in from the cold wind.
His gaze was steady, his robes neat, only the trace of fatigue in his eyes betrayed his long journey.
"Sorry to disturb your rest," he nodded slightly in greeting, his voice gentle yet restrained.
Flora lifted her eyes, her weary face showing a hint of a smile.
"You've come at the right time; these old bones of mine could use a thank you." She spoke softly.
"There's no need," Louis stood by the bed, his tone polite yet sincere, "The Red Tide merely fulfilled our duty. That we could save you was pure luck."
Flora shook her head, a solemn look appearing in her eyes.
"It wasn't luck, it was a lifesaving grace.
