A cool evening breeze swept through the rows of grapevines, carrying the scent of damp earth and fruit on the verge of ripening. Two figures stood face-to-face on the quiet dirt path, like rival kings meeting on a battlefield where no swords were drawn, only words.
Dietrich plucked a near-ripe cluster of grapes, twirling it between elegant fingers. "Remarkable," he said, voice smooth, almost too smooth. "That you'd abandon Eishtal so willingly, Duke Matthias Von Ignaz. A land you swore you'd never leave, even when the Empire was on the brink of collapse. For a woman… that's quite the gesture. Almost admirable."
