The gray morning mist had yet to disperse when an unremarkable black carriage stopped at the side gate of the Silent Villa. It bore no family crest, had no entourage, and was entirely concealed by the damp, cold air.
Velin was already waiting by the carriage. The door opened, and Prince Willandar, dressed in a brown trench coat, stepped out. He pulled back his hood, revealing a somewhat weary face. The long-term pressure of being at the center of a political vortex had already frosted his temples with white.
They looked at each other through the thin mist, neither speaking first, but both saw a deep, hidden worry for the future in the other's eyes.
After a moment of silence, they walked one after the other into the depths of the villa.
Inside the study, the light was dim. Heavy velvet curtains blocked out the morning light from outside.
