Chapter 28: Perception is the key
The morning sun bled over the horizon like a fresh wound, marking the second day of Baron Estefan’s rule. The crimson sky hung above Rammstein, silent, watching, as if the city itself was still unsure whether to kneel or run.
Frejlurd stepped into the Palace, his boots stained with mud and soot, remnants of the brutal night he and his men had given the traitors.
The marble floors inside were pristine, glistening under the morning light that pierced through the high windows. The scent of citrus polish and lavender oils hung in the air, fragrance meant to cover blood since the commander walked in and was spreading odor.
He noticed the servants already hard at work, scrubbing the stone, brushing away dust, wiping unseen smudges. Their movements were precise, practiced as though they cleaned the same stains every day.
Frejlurd stood near the luxurious couch in the grand hall, arms crossed. He tapped his foot against the marble floor, impatient. His face was tight with frustration.
The weight of his new title as the Commander of the City Guard was heavy, but the delay in reporting to his lord grated against him as many minutes passed after his arrival to the Palace.
Galliard entered from the kitchen corridor, looking composed as always, dressed in an immaculate black butler uniform with silver embroidery and House Angeras’s crest glimmering faintly on his lapel.
"Where is he?" Frejlurd asked, his voice too loud for the otherwise quiet hall.
Galliard cast a glance around, noting the startled servants who paused their tasks. He frowned, approaching the commander calmly but firmly. "Mind your manners."
"I’ve been waiting here for some time." Frejlurd replied, ignoring the reprimand. "Where is he?"
Galliard sighed. "The Lord was awake the entire night, Commander. Your... delayed hunting operation extended far beyond expectations. He explicitly requested to not be disturbed. He needed at least an hour of sleep."