The banquet hall of Greyrock Castle had been thoroughly cleaned.
The blood that had seeped into the cracks had been scrubbed away again and again, and thick carpets covered the entire floor, shielding it from the cold stone slabs beneath.
The towering vaults had been illuminated once more, and decorative drapes concealed the scorch marks remaining on the walls. The whole hall had regained its luxurious appearance.
As though that bloody reckoning had never happened.
The musicians sat along one side of the hall, playing an ancient Northern Frontier melody, "Night of Frostbreath."
Low and restrained, the melody drifted slowly through the warm air like a murmur before a blizzard.
Crystal chandeliers hung above the long table, their light refracting through the wineglasses. The shifting reflections looked like flowing blood.
The nobles cut the steaks on their plates, keeping their movements subdued.
Occasionally, knives and forks struck porcelain. The clear clinks sounded unusually piercing now, as though reminding them of something.
They wore fresh velvet formalwear, impeccably tailored, yet somehow faintly unnatural.
Their gazes briefly met over the table, then quickly shifted away.
Those were looks only conspirators shared.
They were not confirming allegiances, but checking whether everyone was ready to take the same step.
At last, Earl Albert slowly rose.
He picked up a silver spoon and gently tapped the paper-thin side of his crystal glass. Clink-
The sound was clear and brief.
The cellist immediately stopped playing, and the attendants silently withdrew into the shadows.
The entire banquet hall fell silent, every gaze drawn toward that tiny sound.
Albert's gaze swept across the long table before settling on Louis.
"Gentlemen," he said, his voice low and hoarse, "look outside."
Beyond the windows, the castle's torches cast flickering light into the night.
"The flags over Greyrock Castle have changed