By noon, news of the incident at the grand theater had spread through the capital's like wildfire.
Everyone was talking about Heinrich Bramwell's desperate, violent downfall. The rumors, as they always did, fractured into a dozen different versions depending on who was doing the whispering.
Some nobles leaned over their porcelain cups in shock, marveling with genuine awe at the reports coming out of the guard house, specifically how Cherion Antel had dodged a blade thrust and knocked Heinrich flat onto the floor using nothing but his bare fists before the guards even managed to break down the door. Others, however, merely sniffed into their lace handkerchiefs with cynical indifference, dismissing the whole event as vulgar squabbling among notorious names.
