After the meal, Alaric busied himself with routine matters, observing the surroundings, speaking with the knights to receive their reports, then returning to his tent, only to repeat the cycle again.
Everything appeared to be proceeding smoothly, yet no matter how diligently he occupied his time, an unsettling unease lingered in his chest. He could not explain it, nor could he shake it off.
And the truth was, he was not the only one burdened by that feeling.
Cael carried his own share of worry, too.
Restlessness gnawed at him, and in an attempt to distract himself, he sought out Soren. He had intended nothing serious, just light conversation to pass the time, but the moment he saw the healer's weary eyes, he stopped himself.
Soren looked exhausted, the kind of tiredness that settled deep into the bones.
