A day after.
The Andreas mansion no longer carried the sound of life.
Morning came, as it always did, but the estate did not rise to meet it. No bells rang to signal the changing of shifts. No pages hurried through corridors with messages clutched to their chests. Even the birds that once gathered near the inner gardens seemed reluctant to return, circling high above the stone roofs before veering away.
Restoration had begun at first light.
Not rebuilding restoration. That was the word Lord Andreas had used. As if the night before were a blemish to be corrected rather than a wound carved into the heart of the house.
Servants moved through the corridors in careful lines, replacing scorched panels, scrubbing soot from marble walls, carrying away ruined furniture wrapped in linen sheets. The smell of smoke still lingered despite their efforts, woven stubbornly into the tapestries and beams. Every now and then, a worker would pause near the sealed corridor leading to the young lord's quarters, hesitate, then continue on without looking too closely.
The door itself was gone.
Removed before dawn.
Where it had once stood was now a temporary barrier of reinforced wood, unmarked and unadorned, guarded at all hours by two silent knights. No one was permitted beyond it. Not servants. Not family. Not even curiosity.
The mansion was being restored step by step.
But nothing about it felt whole.
Nelly stood outside the council chamber long before she was called in.
She had been awake since the night ended if it had truly ended at all. Sleep came only in brief, broken moments, each one ending the same way: heat against her skin, her body refusing to move, the memory of steel sinking into flesh replaying behind closed eyes.
A senior maid adjusted her uniform for her, smoothing wrinkles she could not feel. Fresh bandages were hidden beneath the fabric, tight around her ribs and shoulder. Every breath sent a dull ache through her chest.
"You'll be alright," the maid whispered, though her voice carried little confidence.
The doors opened.
Nelly stepped inside.
The council chamber felt larger than usual, its long oak table stretching beneath the high ceiling like a judgment laid bare. Light filtered through tall windows, illuminating dust motes that drifted lazily in the air. At the far end sat Lord Andreas.
He did not rise.
His posture was straight, composed, hands folded before him. His face revealed nothing no grief, no anger, no exhaustion. Only stillness.
Sir Grunt stood to the right, helm removed but held firmly beneath his arm. His armor bore the marks of the night before, scratches and darkened edges that had not yet been polished away. His gaze was fixed forward, unblinking.
Lady Andreas was absent.
Nelly lowered herself into a deep bow, her forehead nearly touching the floor.
"My lord."
"Speak," Lord Andreas said.
The word was neither harsh nor gentle. It was simply permission.
Nelly straightened slowly, hands clasped tightly in front of her.
"I was attending my duties near the inner corridor," she began. Her voice trembled at first, then steadied as she forced herself to continue. "It was past midnight. The estate was quiet."
She swallowed.
"I noticed movement where there should have been none. Footsteps controlled. Intentional." Her fingers tightened. "I ran toward the young lord's quarters immediately."
Lord Andreas listened without interruption.
"There was only one intruder," she said clearly. "I intercepted before he could reach the door."
Sir Grunt's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"He was trained," Nelly continued. "Faster than anyone I've faced. I attempted to restrain him, but he struck with precision pressure points. My body… failed me." Her voice wavered. "I could see. I could hear. But I could not move."
Her gaze dropped to the floor.
"I watched him walk past me," she said. "Calmly. As if there were no urgency at all."
The chamber felt colder.
"He entered the young lord's quarters," she continued. "I heard the struggle. I heard steel."
Her breathing hitched.
"I saw him stab Lord Seth."
The words hung in the air, heavy and final.
"The young lord redirected the blade," she said quickly, as if the detail mattered more than anything else. "He tried to lessen the damage. But it still struck. Blood followed."
She clenched her eyes shut.
"Then the fire came. I felt the heat before everything went dark."
Silence followed.
Nelly bowed her head, shoulders trembling.
"If I had put more effort the outcome would have been different."
"Enough," Lord Andreas said.
The word struck like a gavel.
Nelly looked up, startled.
"What happened happened," said Lord Andreas.
His voice was calm. Controlled. Absolute.
Blame had no place here.
Nelly swallowed hard and bowed again.
"Yes, my lord."
Lord Andreas leaned forward slightly.
"You mentioned markings," he said. "Explain."
"Yes." She straightened, forcing clarity into her voice. "The intruder wore a cloak. Inside it stitched deliberatelywas a sigil. A broken crescent intersected by a vertical line. Black thread."
Sir Grunt exhaled slowly.
Lord Andreas's eyes narrowed, just enough to be noticed.
"You are certain."
"Yes, my lord."
Another pause.
"You are dismissed," Lord Andreas said.
Nelly bowed deeply and left the chamber, her legs shaking only once the doors closed behind her.
Lord Andreas remained seated.
Sir Grunt did not move.
"That sigil," Lord Andreas said quietly. "You recognize it."
"Yes," Sir Grunt replied. "Nightfall. Assassins. Professionals."
"Could they be responsible?"
Sir Grunt hesitated.
"It's likely possible," he said.
Lord Andreas turned his gaze toward the window, watching the workers below as they hauled debris from the courtyard.
"Likely," he repeated.
Neither spoke again.