The next morning dawned quietly over the grounds. When Mireille opened her eyes, the uncertainty that had clouded her thoughts the night before had faded. In its place was a firm decision. She would leave with the elves. Still, there was one condition she intended to ask of them before anything else.
By the time she arrived downstairs, the two elves were sitting across from Lloyd and Zave. Lloyd's expression was unpleasant, while Zave had a thoughtful look on his face.
"Good… morning?" Mireille greeted as both sides snapped their heads toward her, causing her to take a step back.
"W-what's happening? Why are you looking at me like that?" She stammered. The four of them were emitting a strange aura, almost like something grave was about to happen.
"You're up." Zave pushed up his rimless glasses, looking every bit the elite he was. "Have you made your decision? We were just discus—"
Mireille's lips twitched. "Why don't we have breakfast first, then we talk?"
