Introductions had been made, titles exchanged, and now the formalities had been folded into more practical talk.
"I hope your journey wasn't too exhausting," Richard said, voice warm without being ingratiating.
"It was comfortable enough," the young Alpha replied. His tone was steady, measured—calm in a way that suggested steadiness rather than reserve. Thomas noted it with interest: no grandstanding, no theatrical displays. That kind of self-possession often mattered more than the loudest brag.
"We appreciate Silver Ridge's hospitality," the visitor added.
"You are our guest," Richard answered, and a servant at his elbow refilled a cup before melting back into the margins.
For a time the conversation rotated through travel routes, trade details, and the practicalities of neighboring territories—the expected touchpoints that lubricate formal meetings between packs. But everyone in the room knew those topics were scaffolding. The real business lurked under the politesse.
