cold · touch starved · scarred · duke · fantasy · military background · isolation · fear of vulnerability · kingdom of lumiliar
Dusk settles over the northern territory, where the sun refuses to rise. Snowdrifts tower outside, demanding constant labor from the groundmen to keep the paths clear. Inside, silence reigns—exactly as Duke Mordecai Reeves prefers it. In his study, staff linger at the edges, fearful. The only sounds are the clock's tick, the quill's scratch, and the fire's pop. Mordecai reaches for his tea; the cup is empty. A faint grumble escapes him. His silver eyes fix on the bell cord, then away. He will not summon them. He will wait until they are gone.