The atmosphere carried a silence heavy with intention. The long table of polished wood was set with fine plates, golden cutlery, and crystal glasses that reflected the soft glow of floating chandeliers. Sophisticated aromas lingered in the air—a blend of rare herbs and noble spices. At first glance, it was a portrait of civility.
Aziz sat between Astrid and Isis, while Sofia settled beside her mother. Lady Stella, the ruler of the neutral city of Aklabeth, observed the newcomers with a composed expression. Her eyes—shrewd and vulpine—analyzed every movement with calculated precision. Nothing about that woman was casual. From the way her long red hair was elegantly tied to the manner in which her six tails rested gracefully behind her ornate chair, she was a fox in every sense: beautiful, dangerous, and cunning.
Astrid, for her part, wore a serene smile. Her sky-blue eyes shimmered like fragments of a clear sky—beautiful, yet indecipherable. The kind of gaze that saw beyond words, beyond intentions. Beside her, Isis carried herself like a silent shadow, no less attentive. Her every movement was polished, disciplined—worthy of someone well-versed in the games of power.
Stella picked up her fork with her right hand, delicately cut a piece of the meat served, and brought it to her mouth with natural grace and etiquette. The gesture was refined, not merely for appearance's sake, but as the behavior of a ruler used to leading through presence and subtlety.
"So, Lady Astrid…" Stella finally broke the silence, leaning slightly forward, "it's not common to see travelers seated at the table with my daughter. Much less in a restaurant room reserved exclusively for her."
"Oh, I understand." Astrid smiled, her voice soft as a night breeze. "But sometimes, the unlikely is merely the inevitable waiting to be revealed."
Stella arched an eyebrow, amused.
"Curious words. But inevitable for whom? For me, for Sofia, or for you all?"
"Perhaps for all of us, Lady Stella."
Their gazes locked for a moment—calm, yet loaded. A silent game began to unfold.
Sofia, unaware of the hidden tension, stirred her food cheerfully while chatting with Aziz about trivial matters. He listened attentively but kept part of his perception focused on the tension between the two women who now dominated the room's atmosphere.
"You're an interesting woman, Lady Astrid. But I must admit, I hadn't heard of you before. Where exactly do you come from?"
"From a place forgotten by many and remembered only by those with good memory. But I believe the most relevant thing now is that I am here."
Isis showed no reaction, but inwardly she admired the way Astrid spun words with lightness and authority. Stella, for her part, hid a faint smile at the corner of her lips. She liked conversations like this. A duel of language where it wasn't the strongest who prevailed, but the most cunning.
"And the young man by your side… Aziz, correct? Your son?"
"Yes, my son. My most precious treasure."
"Interesting. He has an… unusual presence."
Stella wasn't lying. From the first moment she saw him, something about Aziz intrigued her. It was as if a different aura emanated from him—something dormant, yet powerful. The kind of thing her tails could sense even when her eyes could not.
"He is special," Astrid replied. "But I prefer to let him discover for himself just how special he can be."
"Ah, of course. The path of discovery. A luxury that few children of rulers have the chance to follow."
Astrid responded only with a calm smile. There was no offense in Stella's words—just a test. And Astrid felt no threat.
Sylvia, the blonde elf who accompanied Sofia, returned to the room bringing dishes identical to those already served. She distributed them discreetly, though her eyes never stopped observing each guest's gestures.
"You are loyal, Sylvia. And observant," Astrid said calmly.
The young elf hesitated for a moment. "I only do my duty, my lady."
"You do it well," Astrid concluded.
Stella raised her glass filled with deep purple wine and swirled it slightly.
"I see you're good at reading people, Lady Astrid. That tends to be a virtue… or a weapon."
"Sometimes, it's both."
"Both, then. I like that."
The glasses clinked softly as Stella proposed a discreet toast. Astrid accepted without hesitation. A symbolic gesture, but rich in meaning.
As the dishes were savored, the atmosphere between them shifted between polished and enigmatic. It was a dance. A trade of veiled barbs, of gentle provocations, all wrapped in elegance and courtesy. There was no enmity—yet—but neither was there trust. Only mutual respect and the certainty that both women knew far more than they were letting on.
"You know…" said Stella, gently placing her fork on her plate, "there are rumors about entities living beyond the wall, in the forests to the north. The forest of Namutã, for instance."
Astrid kept her smile, her eyes fixed on Stella.
"Rumors are like leaves in the wind. They come and go, and almost never touch the ground of truth."
"Almost never," Stella echoed, satisfied with the reply. "But sometimes… a few leaves fall right at our feet."
The silence that followed was dense—but brief.
Sofia, still oblivious, was now laughing with Aziz, talking about how she always used that room to escape the palace's monotonous duties. Aziz replied kindly, listening more than he spoke. His mind, however, processed everything—the subtle tension, the glances, the subtext.
Finally, Stella spoke again:
"I'm glad my daughter has found company, even if unexpected. The neutral city exists to allow for encounters like this… unlikely ones."
"And perhaps inevitable," Astrid added, echoing her own initial phrase.
The two women stared at each other one last time. A tacit agreement seemed sealed there, though no paper was signed, no alliance declared.
For now, there was only a dinner.
But for minds like theirs, that was more than enough.