Sylric turned, clearly expecting that to be the end of the conversation.
It wasn't.
Lindarion stepped forward. "You're coming with us, right?"
Sylric didn't stop walking.
Just kept moving, hands in pockets, posture already slouched like the idea had physically drained him.
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
Sylric exhaled. Loudly. "Do I look like I'm dressed for diplomacy?"
"You're wearing pants. That's enough."
Lira crossed her arms. "Is this a normal interaction?"
"Yes," Lindarion said flatly. "Unfortunately."
Sylric paused at the far end of the courtyard, turned around, and blinked once. "I haven't slept in thirty hours. I'm running on tea and resentment. And the last time I stood in front of Veldorian military brass, I ended up teaching ethics to nobles who didn't know what lying was."
"Sounds like you're qualified."
Sylric pointed at him. "I liked you better when you were missing."
Ashwing huffed.
