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Frost Castle.
The howling cold wind carried snowflakes like goose feathers, piercing through the gaps of the drafty windows into the hall.
The wood in the fireplace crackled in the flames.
The hall was deathly silent, so quiet that the sound of each person's breathing could be heard.
Winnie sat on the high-backed chair by the side of the long table, her fingers gripping the armrest tightly, her knuckles slightly whitening.
Almost tearing off a piece of wood from the armrest.
The long table was flanked by noble lords, their expressions varied.
Some with furrowed brows and sharp gazes.
Others fiddling with their fingers, restless and anxious, occasionally glancing at the door at the end of the hall, as if they wanted to stare a hole through it.
Everyone was waiting for the final result.
Waiting for the news that would decide the fate of the Cold Blade Clan.
Time seemed to freeze at this moment.
Every instant felt as long as a century.
