The night air in the southern gardens of the Duke's manor was cool and gentle, carrying the faint sweetness of midnight flowers and the distant hum of the capital beyond the gates. It was the kind of quiet that usually brought peace to a chaotic mind, but for Flio, it only amplified the silence.
He sat alone on a stone bench, a half-empty bottle of high-grade amber liquor resting beside his thigh. He didn't use a glass. That was a luxury for those who wanted to savor their drink, Flio was simply looking for a dull edge to blunt the sharp corners of his thoughts.
Swirling the liquid in the bottle, he watched the moonlight catch the amber glass. His mind drifted, pulling him back into the past. He had been by Zarius's side since they were children. While other noble heirs were learning how to flaunt their status, Flio had been learning how to balance ledgers, memorize political lineages, and read the subtle shifts in a room's atmosphere.
