At the doors of Duke Mormont's inner chambers, two soldiers stood guard, their hands resting lightly on the hilts of their swords. Their bodies remained poised and statuesque, yet their minds wrestled with the tempting sounds that leaked from beyond the heavy wooden doors — giggles, sultry laughter, and the playful rustle of silken sheets.
Neither dared lean closer to eavesdrop; the Duke's punishments for indiscretion were legendary.
Beyond the ornate doors sprawled a magnificent chamber, awash in the orange glow of countless candles perched on silver-framed candelabra and a grand chandelier suspended from the ceiling like a crown of fire.
The room smelled of scented oils and rich wine, and the heavy air carried the fragrance of violets and burning wax.
Through the sheer, diaphanous curtain draped over the four-poster bed, two figures could be glimpsed, lounging amid tangled sheets.
