The rumor mill of the Imperial Capital operated with the terrifying velocity of a magical plague.
When Count Valerius had fled the Nacht Estate, shrieking about 'degeneracy' and 'unnatural sodomy,' he had not gone quietly into the night.
The pompous Uncle had immediately sought out his cronies in the Elder's Council, weeping over his tea, broadcasting the horrifying, scandalous 'truth' of the Archduke's romantic preferences to anyone who would listen.
Within forty-eight hours, the narrative was the undeniable canon among the high nobility. Duke Kaelus von Nacht, the Reaper of the North, the most terrifying, blood-soaked warlord on the continent, was hopelessly, scandalously entangled with a traveling, bespectacled scholar.
Kaelus genuinely did not care about the opinions of the Capital's powdered idiots.
If they wanted to whisper behind their fans, let them do it.
