Whispers in the Wolf's Den
William placed one hand on the door, then looked over his shoulder, expression soft but chilling.
"Gentlemen," he said, voice dropping to a velvet whisper, "let's discuss the future of our kingdom… and the boy who thinks he can rule it."
He pushed the door open.
---
The hinges let out a low sigh as the door swung inward, letting the warm light spill across the polished floor. The room inside wasn't massive, but it carried weight—the kind of heavy, comfortable authority built over decades of power.
A long oval table sat in the center, made of dark wood with carvings of wolves running along the edges. Around it, plush couches and chairs were arranged deliberately, each one angled toward the head seat like a subtle bow. A chandelier—iron twisted with silver vines—hung above them, dripping with warm orange light. The scent of aged wine, burning oil, and old books blended in the air.
