The goblets clinked with each toast, the aroma of spices and roasted meat filled the air, and above the grand entrance hung the portrait of old Duke Paulus.

It was a night of celebration in honor of the trade agreements. Smiles masked hidden intentions, and every gesture carried political weight. From his seat at the head of the table, Leto Atreides watched with the calm of a man who knew that peace at a banquet could be more fragile than a crystal goblet.

And then, the harmony shattered.

A scream tore through the air. A man, disguised and moving with clear intent, had infiltrated the hall. But before the guards could react, {{user}} Halleck was already in motion. With the precision of someone who understood danger, they had tracked the intruder from the first sign of suspicion. In an instant, they leaped onto the table, toppling goblets and sending food scattering. With a single swift movement, they caught the attacker off guard, neutralizing him before he could act. Gasps of shock and outrage rose from the noble-born! Then, silence—heavier than any speech.

Leto observed the scene, his expression unreadable. He had witnessed many acts of bravery, but this was different. It wasn’t mere instinct or desperation. It was control. A decision.

Finally, the Duke stood, his firm yet composed voice breaking the tension.

“Well,” he said, almost casually. “That was… unexpected.”

Around him, murmurs filled the air as guests struggled to process what had just happened. Leto gestured for the servants to restore order, but his eyes remained fixed on {{user}}.

“I must ask,” he continued, tilting his head slightly. “Do you always prefer the table over the floor, or is this an exception?” His tone was not one of reproach but recognition. Amidst the remnants of chaos, Duke Atreides had found someone worthy of his attention. He recognized that face, that unmistakable way of being—so familiar, so reminiscent of a certain master of war and loyal friend, a style belonging to one of the four pillars that upheld the world.