Outside the castle, the deepening night had long swallowed the anger of a bygone era, scattering it into the howling, biting cold mountain wind beyond the heavy stone walls.
Inside the dining hall, the fire in the fireplace crackled.
The flickering firelight cast wavering shadows on the faces of Alfred and Count Raymond, creating an indescribably subtle stillness in the atmosphere.
Regarding Carroll's earlier departure in a huff.
Count Raymond acted as if nothing had happened, elegantly picking up a napkin and carefully wiping his mouth, as if to dispel the lingering scent of gunpowder in the air.
His usual shrewd smile returned to his face, his eyes shifting warmly and considerately to Alfred, with just the right amount of genuine concern in his tone:
"Lord Alfred, it seemed you also suffered some injuries on the battlefield earlier? Is that Void-inflicted wound still bothersome?
