Heinz smirked. "Flying," he repeated, amusement threading through his voice.
Florian blinked at him, his gaze darting around in search of something—anything—that could justify the statement. An airship, a hidden set of wings, some arcane mechanism. But there was nothing. Only trees, shadows, and the soft whisper of leaves in the evening breeze.
'He's joking, right?'
But Heinz was already moving, stepping forward with a surety that sent a ripple of unease through Florian. Before he could react, Lucius's hand landed on his shoulder. Lancelot grabbed his arm, and together, they pulled him back, forcing him to take a few steps away.
"What are—?"
"Trust me," Lancelot said, his voice uncharacteristically serious, laced with something Florian almost mistook for intimidation. "You'll want to step back."
Lucius hesitated. "Are you truly sure about this, Your Majesty?" His gaze flickered toward Heinz, wary but resigned.
