Silence returned to the dining room after the double ebony doors closed tight. Vakmi, the hunched old servant, bowed slightly before leaving.
"I will excuse myself for a moment to prepare your bedrooms."
The old servant's footsteps faded away, muffled by the thick corridor carpet. The sound of the door closing with a soft click left Fyar, Zaefal, Illya, and Cyhas alone at the large dining table.
Fyar placed his silver fork on the porcelain plate. The soft clink of metal broke the silence.
He looked at his friends one by one.
"I think... we can breathe a little now," Fyar said. His voice was low, almost a whisper. "Hasya..."
"I don't think he... has bad intentions towards us."
Fyar sighed, leaning back. "His intention is only to raise, maybe."
Zaefal sighed deeply. He leaned his back against the high red velvet chair backrest. "Well, I agree with you too."
