The heavy oak door to his father's office swung open on well-oiled hinges, revealing a room that looked more like a crypt than a place of power and rule. While the intricately carved Lothian Throne stood in the great hall as a powerful symbol of the Marquis' authority, for generations this had been the room where the quill was wielded like a sword, and the decrees that would be announced from the throne were carefully written and revised.
It was this room, rather than the great hall, that formed the beating heart of Lothian power in the march, and it was here that Bors Lothian had locked himself away as soon as he was free of the constricting prescriptions of fussy healers and concerned stewards.
