"For what?"
Esmond stared at Trafalgar as if the question itself had reached deeper than Caelum's tools.
His ruined hands trembled against the restraints. The potion had restored enough flesh to leave him functional, yet every small movement dragged pain back into his face. His lips parted, closed, parted again. The old arrogance had not vanished completely. It clung to him in scraps, like a fine coat soaked in blood and refusing to fall from his shoulders.
"For knowledge," Esmond said at last.
Trafalgar's expression did not change.
Selara's mouth tightened.
Esmond noticed both reactions and released a weak, breathless sound that might have been a laugh if his throat had not been so raw. "You look disappointed. Did you expect some grand declaration? A throne? A banner? A secret army beneath the floor? No. The Vaelion wanted to learn from the Void Creatures. That was all."
"That was all?" Selara repeated.
Her voice had thinned to something dangerous.
