Chapter 551: The End of an Age
Snow blanketed the gardens of Tyrol in silence, muting even the distant howls of wolves along the forest edge.
A frost had settled upon the old stones of the estate, creeping across windows, wrapping marble statues in a glistening sheen of stillness. But the cold inside was heavier still.
Bruno stood at the far end of the drawing room, his back to the fire. Its warmth did not reach him. Not tonight.
It had been less than a fortnight since he had left the Tsar’s winter palace with news of the man’s terminal condition. He had made no theatrical farewells, no overt displays of finality. And yet his words the previous night still echoed like church bells in Bruno’s mind:
"When your father follows, I shall tell him of the man you became."
It should have been comforting. It felt like a gravestone.
Heidi entered quietly, her boots brushing snow from the hem of her fur-lined gown. She said nothing at first, simply setting down a tray of tea beside the armchair that Bruno hadn’t sat in since yesterday.
Her eyes drifted to him, studied his stiff posture, his unreadable gaze toward the hearth.
"It’s not your fault," she said gently, as if the silence had accused him.
Bruno exhaled through his nose. "I know that."
A lie. Or at least a half-truth. He always knew that the great men who guided his youth would one day be gone.
But he did not expect that the time for them to fall would come so soon, so close together, as if history itself were making room for a new epoch. And he did not expect to feel so alone while witnessing it.