A Few Hours Earlier
Far to the north of Thornvale, nestled deep within a lavish estate overlooking a fog-slicked lake, Count Hallen swirled a goblet of aged wine in his hand.
He was not a man easily rattled.
Cunning, calculating, and pragmatic to a fault—he had long since discarded things like sentiment and idealism. To him, power was a ledger.
Still… Thornvale troubled him.
"Viscount Mic," Hallen muttered under his breath, tasting the name like bitter ash. "A boy."
He rose from his seat, the hem of his embroidered robe brushing over polished marble tiles. His study was quiet, the only sounds the low crackle of the hearth and the soft flick of paper as a servant replaced a document on the desk nearby.
The name had appeared only a week ago in his reports. Not from Helmric—of course not. That rat would never what truly happens outside thornvale.
But the Duke's seal had confirmed it.
A new Viscount.
A child barely past manhood.
