Zephyrion frowned at the silence in the room.
Only minutes had passed since his battle with Possum, and he'd been immediately led here, to the bastion's war room, beneath the stunned gazes of practically everyone who'd watched him leave.
Now, the commander and the hardened generals in charge of the region were seated around him, staring at him with varying expressions. Some wore deep frowns, others looked grim and contemplative, while the commander alone had a wide grin plastered across his face, staring at Zephyrion like he was the best thing that had happened to him in years.
"M-my boy… everything alright? Comfortable? Too hot? Too cold? If there's anything you don't like, anything at all, just say the word and I'll—"
"I'm fine."
Zephyrion shifted slightly in his seat, his frown deepening beneath the commander's almost doting stare. It was strange enough that they'd allowed an apprentice into their war room, but to think they'd actually given him a seat at the table too.
