"Your Highness's visit is an honor beyond words."
The moment Tales entered the guest room, he saw Federico Cavendish sitting alone in the reception room, facing the door and gently rubbing the teacup cradled in his hands.
His complexion was sallow, his clothes plain. He looked thin and frail, almost like an ascetic monk.
He was utterly different from the Federico who had stormed into the Selection Tournament under everyone's eyes, crazed and desperate.
Tales said nothing. He simply sat down across from Federico.
The chair was made of hardwood and rather uncomfortable. When Tales lowered his head, he saw that the cup beside him contained only the most basic tea. Its color was so pale it was almost like clear water.
"Have they treated you badly?" Tales asked thoughtfully.
Clearly, although Federico's room was right across from Jann's, its furnishings, utensils, food, clothing, and every other amenity were far inferior to those of his ducal cousin.
"No, Your Highness." Federico neither stood nor raised his head. He remained focused on fiddling with the teacup in his hands. "In fact, the treatment here is almost excessively good. It makes it difficult not to think back to my childhood."
Seeing Federico's casual attitude toward the Prince, Gollor looked displeased. He strode forward, intending to kindly remind the man of the proper etiquette for an audience, but Tales waved him off.
"No need to search him, Garen. He won't hurt me."
As he said this, Tales stared straight at Federico, as if he meant to hook the man's soul out through his eyes.
At least not while he still needs me.
"Thank you for your trust, Your Highness."
Though Federico said this, his gaze drifted aimlessly, as if he were seeing something else through the teacup.
Gollor snorted angrily. He glared fiercely