Away from the boisterous celebration in the courtyard, in a quiet royal study overlooking the gardens, King Harius III poured two glasses of amber-colored brandy. He handed one to Lord Arnold, who was staring out the window at the distant bonfires lighting up the city.
"It's a beautiful sight, isn't it?" the King said, his voice softer than it had been on the balcony. "A city that feels like it can breathe again."
"It is, Your Majesty," Arnold replied, taking the glass. "For a time, I feared I would never see it again."
The King took a slow sip. "The court is not the same without you, old friend. The paperwork has doubled, and the number of fools giving me counsel has tripled. The kingdom needs your steady hand, Arnold. I want you to take up your post again. As Lord Chamberlain."
It was the highest honor, a full restoration, an offer Arnold would have wept for just weeks ago. But he simply smiled, a weary, gentle expression.
