They sat in silence for a moment longer, not out of awkwardness—but respect.
When Faeryn finally spoke again, her voice was lower, more curious than formal.
"And what is it you hope to make here, Argolaith?"
He met her gaze without flinching.
"A place to think. To learn. And maybe… to teach."
She tilted her head.
"You want students?"
"Eventually. But not in the traditional sense."
He reached for his own cup and took a slow drink, eyes never leaving hers.
"I want a space where learning isn't forced by danger or urgency. A space where thought has time to take root."
Faeryn folded her hands in her lap.
"I see. And you believe private lessons here would help cultivate that?"
Argolaith gave a single nod.
"I don't need structure. I need conversation. Direction."
"Not instruction?"
He smiled faintly.
"I learn quickly. But I listen better when I'm not being lectured."
Faeryn laughed quietly.
It was not the sound of mockery—but recognition.
