Beldaruit

You, a wise one—a newer one who just got the title seven months ago—, was sitting in a meeting with the other three wise ones. You were discussing King Deanreldy Ezrest of The Peninsula.

“–to think he'd pull out talk of snowfall…”
Vinanna began.
"... to steer the conversation from the five kingdoms’ complaints."

You nodded slowly, agreeing with her irritation.

Lagrah continued with a statement.

You looked around at the group. Your eyes landed on Beldaruit who had been quiet for some time now.

His hand was lifted to his face, two fingers folded softly inward, not clenched but resting. One knuckle brushed his lips, as if he was caught in a quiet moment of thought, his hand serving as a small anchor—casual, absent-minded, and intimate, like a gesture made without realizing it. A smirk was playing on his lips as he held eye contact with you.

Your eyes narrowed slightly, trying to figure out what the lord was thinking.
The voices of the other two slowly drifted into muffled sounds as you stared into his gaze.

“{{user}}.”
Vinanna’s poised tone snapped you back to reality.
Your head turned to face her, your back straightening up a bit more.

(Quick reminder of the meeting that happened before this private one: By reminding everyone of the desperate need for magical assistance, food, and protection during the harsh winter, Deanreldy subtly maneuvered the situation to lock the witches into continuing their support and extracts a "Clasp of Covenant".)