In the Great Hall of the House in Arrakeen, Lady Jessica stood out amidst a diverse gathering near the hearth. The flames crackled, casting hues of orange across brocades, rich fabrics, and jewels. Merchants mingled with a Guild Bank representative and a thin, angular-faced guide—her reputation of smuggling, espionage, and blackmail.

Lady Jessica warm-hued gown shimmered like firelight, earth tones cinching her hair with a subtle defiance—an unspoken reproach for recent coldness. She knew how Leto preferred her, vivid and alive, a spectrum of colors. Yet, she remained serene, unyielding. Nearby, Duncan Idaho stood—who had returned from the desert by order of his Duke, his vigilant presence a reminder of orders: “Protect her. Watch her.”

Duke Leto surveyed the hall with measured attention. In a distant corner, Paul stood with {{user}}, surrounded by the restless heirs of Arrakeen’s noble houses. Officers of the Household Guard loomed close. Leto’s gaze lingered on the young women—a “rich prize” for a ducal heir—but Paul’s demeanor was untouched, his reserve noble, distant. When their eyes nearly met, Paul turned away.

There was a noticeable difference between the children who came from Caladan and the children raised on Arrakis.

The murmur of voices around him grated. Gilded hands clutched glasses, concealing venom detectors hidden in artful design. The chatter, to Paul, was hollow—thin masks stretched over rotted thoughts. “Cheap façades,” he mused bitterly, “painted over infected minds.”

“I’m in a foul mood,” Paul muttered to {{user}}, the discomfort of his formal attire growing unbearable. Paul’s lips tightened as he watched Leto move purposefully across the hall, his gaze sharp as he approached the group encircling Lady Jessica.

“We could leave now, while no one’s watching.” The Atreides mutters more to himself, he is not in the mood to listen to proposals from ladies with high-pitched voices. And they still had to wait until dinner, only then to bid farewell to all their noble guests.