Snow crunched underfoot as Trafalgar stepped out of the carriage, Caelum at his side. The gates to Euclid's lordly mansion loomed ahead—once belonging to Mordrek, now his by decree of Valttair. Wide gardens spread across the front, their paths cleared of snow by workers who bowed quickly as he passed. The building itself looked untouched by the dragon's rampage, tall windows reflecting pale winter light, banners of House Morgain hanging neatly along the outer walls.
Trafalgar's eyes lingered on the newly fitted mithril plates that reinforced the gates and sections of the outer wall. The glimmer of the silver-blue metal caught his attention.
'Mithril, huh? Don't tell me it's from Augusto's. Would be ironic—me getting richer from my own family's purchases. Not impossible… but probably too much of a coincidence.'
He smirked faintly and shook the thought away, focusing on the present.
