The drawing room of the Tyrolean estate was lit by soft golden lamplight, the long curtains pulled aside to reveal the gentle snowfall beyond the windowpanes.
It was a rare night when all the great figures of the von Zehntner family stood gathered not for matters of state or strategy, but for something as old and human as love.
Erich stood at attention, still dressed in the uniform he wore for his return from Spain.
His medals caught the light, among them the gleaming star of his valor awarded by the restored Spanish monarchy.
But the young man's jaw was clenched, and his eyes never quite met the gaze of those before him.
Before him stood his parents, Erwin and Alya, noble and composed in posture, but unmistakably curious.
Heidi sat beside her husband, Bruno, both elder figures unmoving, watching with expressions unreadable.
Erich could feel the weight of his grandfather's scrutiny.
