The sanctuary still stood, deep beneath the sea.
The mansion next district, once a quiet hub for planning and rest, had become the new heart of Arthur's crew. Now it brimmed with the weight of decisions too large to ignore.
Gawain stood near the doorway, his posture straighter than it had been in days. He'd cleaned the tears from his cheeks but hadn't lost the shine in his eyes, and he hadn't said a word since the discussion started. Not yet.
The second guest was more composed.
Float Admiral Bovras Bloodworth had the stature of a man who had survived both storms and politics, and didn't particularly care for either. His uniform had been stripped of ceremonial weight, left with only the stark blue-black of Glaucus' naval command and a sigil stitched into one shoulder, a massive sea serpent, its body coiled tight around a cluster of wind-torn sails, fangs bared, as if guarding the vessel it encircled.
