*Rhys*
I shuffled through the parchments sprawled across the grand oak table, each one bearing news of skirmishes, trade disruptions, and diplomatic entreaties. The council chamber was still, save for the occasional cough or groan and low murmurs of advisors deliberating over Axureon's arrival.
But I was distracted by vivid images of Saoirse that danced at the edge of my thoughts.
"Your Highness," Elder Markus's voice cut through the fog in my mind, "what is your stance on the border controls?"
"Ah, yes." I found my voice. "We must reinforce them yet ensure they do not provoke unnecessary alarm."
Markus nodded, his pen scratching as he noted my directive. But my words felt hollow, an echo of a leader I was supposed to be, not the man I truly was—a man caught in the worry for Saoirse.
