The great hall was never truly empty. Even in the still hours between dusk and dawn, the crackle of the hearths and the low murmurs of servants made the air feel alive.
Tonight, the hall was quieter than usual. The feast in Aldrin's honor had ended hours ago, leaving behind the heavy scent of roasted venison, stale wine, and smoldering firewood.
Aldrin had excused himself early, retreating to the balcony that overlooked the hall from the second floor. From here, the banners of House Veyren hung like frozen waterfalls—black and silver, each bearing the white wolf encircled by a wreath of frost.
Below, the stragglers of the night lingered: two armored knights leaning close by the far wall, a pair of servants clearing trenchers from the table… and his uncle, Lord Hadrien, speaking in hushed tones to Baron Emlith, one of the older vassals.
Aldrin moved silently along the balcony rail, keeping to the shadows.
"…the boy is green, Hadrien," Emlith was saying. "He'll cling to your guidance like ice to a branch. That's our chance."
Hadrien's chuckle was low, humorless. "Guidance, yes. For now. The moment Greyheart makes his move, I'll see the seal of Veyren placed in my hand. The boy will not resist—he lacks the steel."
"And if he does?"
A faint scrape of a chair. "Then the frost will claim him, as it claimed his father."
Aldrin's fingers tightened on the balcony rail until his knuckles whitened. Not a word of it touched his face; his expression remained calm, eyes half-lidded as though bored. But inside, every syllable sank into memory like a knife into ice.
When the baron departed, Hadrien lingered by the hearth, swirling a cup of wine.
Aldrin descended the stairs at a measured pace. The echo of his boots on the stone made Hadrien glance up.
"Uncle," Aldrin greeted, voice polite, almost warm. "I thought you'd retired for the night."
Hadrien smiled faintly. "I was enjoying the fire. And you? Can the new Lord Veyren not sleep?"
"Sleep will come," Aldrin said, stopping a few feet away. "But before it does, I wanted to thank you. For your… steady presence during this transition."
The older man inclined his head. "Of course. You're young yet. It will take time before the men look to you without question."
"Time," Aldrin agreed. "And loyalty."
Something flickered in Hadrien's eyes—gone too quickly for most to notice. Aldrin filed it away.
He gave the barest of nods and moved past him toward the hall doors. "Rest well, Uncle. We'll have much to discuss tomorrow."
As the heavy oak doors closed behind him, Aldrin's steps slowed. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
Now he was certain.
Hadrien was the rot in his walls.