With the weight of the war finally set down, the atmosphere inside the tent shifted almost naturally. The tension didn't vanish outright—it never truly did—but it loosened, like a knot untied enough to breathe again. Cups were refilled. Someone adjusted the hanging lantern. The quiet hum of the sea beyond the cave walls seemed closer now, more present.
It was Naeva who tilted her head first.
"So," she said, eyes moving between Luke and Ilyrana. "You didn't come all this way just to give us a war report."
Luke let out a small chuckle.
"Yeah. That'd be a bit dramatic, even for me."
That drew a few smiles. A few.
He straightened slightly, fingers resting on his knees.
"We're here because… we want to join the naval project."
The words landed heavier than he expected.
For a heartbeat, no one reacted. Then—
"What?"
"As in—join?"
"You mean advise?"
"Consult?"
"Wait—join join?"
The tent erupted.
