The halls of the Grand Estate of Tyrol were filled in a way they had not been for decades.
Motorcars lined the drive, their lanterns flickering in the night their tires crunching against the snow.
The servants bustled to and fro, guiding arrivals through the marble vestibule into the great hall, where fires roared in towering hearths and the banners of the house hung draped in black mourning cloth.
The family had come.
Bruno's eight brothers stood together once more, stooped with age but still carrying themselves like men who had once been proud sons of Prussia.
Their wives clustered beside them, speaking in hushed tones, while their children and grandchildren filled the galleries, their faces a mixture of curiosity and solemnity.
Bruno's own eight children were present as well, Erwin, Eva, Elsa, the younger ones who had only recently grown to inherit their full measure of responsibility.
