Ashes of the Elite

The carriage rolls to a smooth stop at the end of the long driveway, its wheels crunching against the pristine cobblestone path. As soon as we step out, a woman is already waiting for us, standing with practiced poise just beyond the grand entrance. She's dressed in a deep burgundy gown, her black hair pinned neatly into a bun. Her expression is composed, professional, but there's an air of quiet scrutiny in her gaze as she assesses us.

"Welcome to Castle Ravenstone Awakened," she says as we step out of the carriage, dipping her head in a polite nod. "I am Scarlet Mason. I will be escorting you to the waiting chamber until Lord Ashland is ready to receive you."

Without another word, she turns on her heel, leading us through the towering double doors and into the castle's interior. The moment we step inside, the sheer wealth of the place smacks me in the face with extreme prejudice.

The entrance hall is bathed in warm, golden light, emanating from an enormous chandelier overhead—a monstrosity of crystal and gilded metal that looks heavy enough to crush an ox if it ever came loose. The walls are lined with massive oil paintings, each piece likely worth more than an entire house. Plush red carpets stretch across the polished marble floors, their fibers untouched by a single speck of dirt. Servants move seamlessly through the halls, carrying trays of wine, stacks of papers, all of them moving with quiet efficiency.

Compared to Cain's house which is in hindsight modest in size, with only three dedicated servants to keep things running—this place is a kingdom unto itself. The Count must have hundreds of staff just to maintain a castle of this magnitude, and from the way everything gleams without a single thing out of place, none of them ever dared slack off.

Scarlet leads us down a series of well-lit corridors, each one just as lavish as the last, until we arrive at a sitting room. It's smaller than the entrance hall but no less extravagant. A set of high-backed chairs sit around a polished mahogany table, a sprawling rug covers the stone floor, and a fireplace crackles in the far wall, filling the space with a gentle warmth.

"If you would wait here," Scarlet says, gesturing toward the chairs. "The Count will see you once he is available."

Almost as soon as we sit, a few more servants enter, carrying silver trays laden with refreshments—steaming tea, a selection of fine cheeses, fresh bread, and an assortment of dried fruits. They place everything down with silent efficiency before bowing their heads and exiting the room.

Cain leans back in his chair, offering Scarlet a small nod. "Thank you for your hospitality."

As Scarlet turns to leave, one of the servants dips his head respectfully. "If you need anything else, Sir Cain Nekran, please do not hesitate to ask we are honored to have you."

I freeze, my hand halfway to the teapot.