Time flew by in a rush in the palace.
Three weeks bled into four. It was not a dramatic span, but in the wake of a war, a month of silence was a lifetime.
Nothing exploded. No borders were breached. Nothing was overtly repaired between the King and his Co-sovereign, but the edges of their conflict simply... settled. They became part of the architecture, like cracks in the foundation that one learns to walk around until they are no longer noticed.
The results, however, were undeniable.
Reports were being sealed with a finality that the kingdom hadn't seen in years.
In the Merrow District, the wooden frames of reconstruction were finally being covered in stone. Scaffolding came down, revealing markets that pulsed with the frantic, healthy energy of reopening.
Winter stores were secured three weeks ahead of schedule, the grain elevators filled to the brim.
