A defeated king (2)

As the wind whispered through the camp, its soft breaths gently stirring the fabric of the tent, the king's eyes remained fixed on Ioannes, a silent inquiry lingering in their depths. Ioannes met the king's gaze with a somber expression, his own eyes reflecting a depth of experience and loyalty earned over the years.

The despot's voice cut through the stillness, breaking the quiet tension that hung in the air. "How long have you served me faithfully, Ioannes?" he asked, his words measured yet laden with significance.

Ioannes paused for a moment, his brow furrowing in contemplation, before responding with a hint of resignation, "Twelve years, Your Highness. Since I was sixteen, and you twenty-two."

As the king's words hung in the air, the flickering light from the tent's oil lamps danced across his features, casting shifting shadows that mirrored the uncertainty in his voice. Ioannes, standing before him, felt the weight of the moment pressing down upon him.