The first light of morning filtered into the informal breakfast room, casting a soft glow over the elegant tapestries and polished wood. The warmth of the early sun mixed with the comforting scent of freshly baked bread, spiced fruit, and strong tea. It was a peaceful scene, one that masked the weight of unspoken thoughts and quiet calculations.
King Clive Yanis sat at the end of the long table, his quiet authority present in every movement. Beside him, Queen Isabella's serene presence radiated a gentle grace. Together, they ruled with wisdom and strength, yet today, both carried a silent reservation that lingered beneath their composed expressions.
The only sounds in the room were the soft clinking of silver against porcelain as servants moved discreetly, placing trays of delicate pastries and bowls of ripe fruit before the royal family. It was a routine morning, but the air carried something heavier than the usual pleasantries.
