In the Solar of Raven's Crag's keep, heavy, wine-colored curtains were drawn tight against the windows, locking out the sky as if to hide the room in darkness. The air hung stale and cold. Once a vibrant emerald, the walls were now a faded, mossy green, their paint cracked and peeling in the gloom. The only light came from a single guttering candle, its flame throwing long, restless shadows across the silent room.
In the center of the faded solar stood a heavy oak table, its surface scarred and stained.
On its far side, the Lord of Raven's Crag sat, his broad shoulders tense with suppressed rage. His fist was clenched on the wood, his knuckles white. As if he wants to tear someone apart.
Beside him stood his Steward, a gaunt man clutching a ledger to his chest like a shield. His face was pale, and he nervously mopped his brow with a handkerchief, his eyes constantly darting towards a deep pool of shadows that enveloped the door to their right.
Opposite them, in contemptuous ease, sat a man in his thirties. His legs were crossed, displaying boots of fine leather, dressed in a desaturated, regal red that screamed of corrupted wealth and arrogance. He exudes a noble demeanor, seemed utterly at home, his attention on a single black coin that danced across his knuckles in a smooth, lustrous roll.
Beside his chair stood a burly knight, his arms crossed over his chest. He wore a faint, unsettling smile, watching the baron's fury with open amusement.
On his other side stood a priest in his priestly robes with an uncomfortable and gloomy expression.
"Family is the most precious treasure in the world." The Viscount stopped playing with his coin.
He looked with a gentle gaze and spoke with a smile. "We can do anything for them to smile at us. Don't you agree, Lord Baron?"
The Baron's face flushed a deep, dangerous crimson. A vein throbbed at his temple as his hands clenched into fists on the armrests of his chair, the wood groaning in protest.
'How dare you spout such nonsense to me,' he screamed internally wishing to tear him apart, but he remained silent, his furious gaze cutting from the Viscount to the smirking knight beside him.
Seeing his lord's dangerous silence, the Steward leaped into the breach. "Yes indeed, Sir Viscount. We agree with you wholeheartedly," he said, his voice oily and ingratiating.
He offered a bootlicking smile that made the magic knight's disdainful grin widen.
Wiping his forehead again, the Steward gestured nervously toward the darkened door. "Aren't you going inside, my lord?"
"No, please, don't mind me," the Viscount waved a dismissive hand.
"I already have a very beautiful wife and two lovely children. I love them very much. And I am faithful to her."
Smiling politely, "Not to mention, I have very high standards."
"Ah! Yes, yes indeed," the Steward nodded.
After an agonizing moment, the Steward pressed on, his voice strained. "Then, Sir Viscount, we hope the compensation is sufficient and everything is okay now. Can we get the clearance documents?"
The Viscount chuckled, a low, unpleasant sound, "Haha, how can that be so simple?"
"That," Lazily pointing at the door, "was for the silence of my assistants. You haven't paid *me* yet." snapping the baron's last thread of composure.
Slam!
He exploded, his palms hitting the table with a thunderous crack that echoed in the stifling room.
YOU ARE READING
The Eclipse Moons Grimoire: Lilith's Soft Whispers
FantasyA boy who wishes to be a girl dies in an accident and reincarnates in a world of gods and demons as the second son of the baroness with hidden past. His supposed mother disguises and raises him as a girl.
