Late at night, at the Veterans' Home tavern.
The dim oil lamp was the room's only source of light, casting a hazy, warm glow over the wooden bar, the worn tables and chairs, and the long-faded medals and old nautical charts on the walls.
But its usual bustle and clamor had been completely swept away. The doors and windows were shut, and everyone had been gently but firmly ushered out. Only the tavern's owner, Nambos, remained, along with the "guest" who had arrived quietly and changed the kingdom's balance of power that day.
Nambos, a Marine veteran retired for many years, still held his back straight as a spear. But the ravages of time and the silence buried deep in his eyes were etched into his deeply lined face.
Without a word, he wiped the glass in his hands over and over, though it was already polished enough to serve as a mirror. His movements were mechanical and intent, as though this were his only ritual for shutting out the world's turmoil and the unrest within him.
Occasionally, his clouded gaze flicked toward the figure sitting quietly at the other end of the bar, then quickly dropped again, burying that complex emotion still deeper in his eyes.
Boer sat there with his back to most of the light, much of his figure submerged in shadow.
A glass of ordinary fruit juice stood before him, its clear liquid glimmering beneath the lamp. He did not move, merely "watching" the warped, dancing lamplight reflected in the glass, his thoughts seemingly drifting far away.
The day's clamor and reckoning had ended with astonishing efficiency. Crushed by absolute force and the terrifying deterrence that followed, the reshuffling of power within the Oykot Kingdom had proceeded remarkably "smoothly."
The nobles who had opposed Duke Sergei