Even the way the corpses of the fallen guards were laid seemed vaguely aesthetic. Their blood pooled around them atop the rug, and on the white and black tiles that the rug failed to cover. Edward had to wonder what the inside of the rooms were like. On the ground floor of King's keep, eight doors, each likely with enough space inside them to be considered a modestly sized family accommodation.
Edward's feet kept him walking along behind Kaya. They hit the winding stone staircase, and dragged the ground floor out of view. It was like trying to hold on to a memory of the past, looking back at it. Edward wanted to study it more. There was so much richness in it, both in the sense of wealth, and in the significance of it. The golden inscriptions written atop the silvery plate of those fallen men, evidence of their rank and standing in being part of the King's guard. Then, even they were reduced to insignificance.
