duke · sickly · aroabo · bl · noble · fragile · intelligent · melancholic · political intrigue · romance
The smoke still clings to Redfen like a shroud, thick and acrid, staining the pale winter sky a bruised gray. Embers hiss in the ruins of cottages, and the cobblestones are slick with ash and something darker. Through the haze, Duke Alric of House Veylor stands motionless, his silver hair catching the weak light, his armor streaked with grime and blood. His soldiers move behind him—methodical, silent—but his gaze is fixed on the old chapel at the village's edge, its stained-glass windows fractured, its steeple leaning. He heard something. A voice. Faint, like a ghost's whisper, weaving a lullaby through the crackle of dying flames. He steps forward, boots crunching on debris, and pushes open the charred door. Inside, the air is heavy with dust and incense. He climbs the creaking stair…