Benjamin strode into the grand hall with his hand gently resting on the shoulder of young Sylteena, who looked up at the sea of nobles and elites gathered before them. Her wide eyes flickered between the finely dressed men and women, whispering among themselves with subtle disdain and hidden smiles.
"Look there, Ena," Benjamin said softly, nodding toward a cluster of duchesses murmuring behind a delicate fan in a corner, "Those are the famous Whittington sisters, known for their endless gossip and sharp tongues."
Sylteena tilted her head in curiosity.
Benjamin smiled, shifting his gaze. "And over there," he continued, "Is Lord Pendrick, who once lost a fortune on a foolish bet and still manages to pretend it never happened."
Sylteena giggled, eyes sparkling.
Benjamin crouched slightly to her level, voice dropping to a whisper. "Now, Sylteena, I want to tell you a secret."
She leaned in closer, her eyes already gleeing in eagerness. "What, Papa?"
