They crossed the Gate and arrived in Euclid.
The cold reached them almost immediately.
Snow was falling, as it always seemed to do in Euclid, or in any territory touched by House Morgain. The air was pale and crisp, carrying the smell of stone, pine, smoke, and distant metalwork from the city beyond.
In front of them stood Trafalgar's mansion.
It had once belonged to Mordrek, but now the place was his. A lordly mansion with large gates, broad gardens spread before the entrance, and paths kept clear of snow by workers moving quietly under thick coats. Tall windows reflected the weak winter light, and banners of House Morgain hung from the outer walls. New mithril plates reinforced parts of the doors and sections of the stonework, catching faint silver glimmers beneath the snowfall.
Silas stared at it with his mouth slightly open.
Cynthia did not hide her reaction either.
