The banquet hall of the Grey Rock Castle had been thoroughly cleaned.
The blood stains that had seeped into the stone crevices were repeatedly washed away, and a thick carpet covered the entire floor, isolating the cold stone slabs below.
The towering arches were relit, the charred marks on the walls were covered by decorative drapes, and the entire hall was restored to its former luxurious state.
As if that bloody reckoning had never happened.
Musicians seated on the side of the hall played an ancient Northern tune, "The Night of Frost's Breath."
The melody was deep and restrained, like the low hum before a blizzard, slowly flowing in the warm air.
Crystal chandeliers hung above the long table, the lights refracting in the wine glasses, creating swaying reflections akin to flowing blood.
The nobility cut the steaks on their plates, their movements very light.
