PRESENT
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
'"It appears that Count Redwood have finally lost his sanity."'
Celeste's voice carried that particular blend of pity and dismissal reserved for men who'd outlived their usefulness. Her greyish eyes swept over Count Redwood with clinical detachment, one hand still resting on the pommel of her bloodied sword.
Behind her, the lead knight shifted his weight. The other Ktorian soldiers exchanged glances—uncomfortable, uncertain. Baron Hartfield's headless corpse continued bleeding across the expensive carpet, but no one paid it any mind anymore.
Count Redwood didn't react.
He simply sat there propped against his pillows, that piece of parchment still clutched in his weathered hand. His face remained expressionless. Eyes fixed somewhere past Celeste's shoulder.
For a long moment, silence.
Then his head moved.
Slowly. Deliberately.
A shake. Left to right. Just once.
