Meanwhile,
The moonless night hung heavy over the kingdom.
Not the gentle kind that lulled peasants to sleep beneath lantern-lit streets, but a suffocating silence that pressed against castle walls like a held breath.
Somewhere in the distant hills, thunder grumbled or was it the rumble of siege engines being rolled into position?
Some questions remained unanswered.
Nonetheless,
The throne room was cold, despite the hearths.
Torches flickered casting those dancing shadows like in a cinematographic shoot, across the ancient stonework.
The banners of House Faeren hung limply overhead, the white and gold, the colors of peace and wealth.
They no longer felt honest. The silks had faded. The threads starting to decompose.
It's not an unknown fact that tensions are rising, not only, demon, neighbouring kingdoms but even the heavens seem to be against them.
**
