The night was reaching its end.
The halls of House Vallis gleamed beneath hanging chandeliers and a thousand floating candlelights.
Wine had flowed. Laughter had echoed. False smiles had been traded like currency.
Nobles had dined and discussed. Enemies had been made, their poison dipped in honeyed words, and situational friends—fragile and conditional—had been forged under the illusion of civility.
The Council had led them through various Orders of the night. There had been discussions, votes—ceremonial, most of them—on matters of trade, border security, inheritance claims, and proposed expansions to the Mage Registry.
Dry, politic things.
But every decision had its weight. Every vote was another shift in the ever-swaying balance of power.
Now, as the hour waned and the moonlight painted silver through tall stained glass, the grand ballroom had changed.
Music played softly.
