Morning in Ehrenwald was still wrapped in a thin, bone-chilling mist, even as the sun strained to pierce through the towering trees surrounding the Von Meier estate. In the wide front courtyard, formality clashed with tension, thick in the air.
The Imperial carriages were lined up in perfect order, ready to roll out. The soundscape was a symphony of clinking reins, velvet rustling, and the rhythmic stomp of Imperial Guard boots, everything poised for departure.
Under the archway at the main gate stood Wilhelm Von Meier, head of the family, stiff-backed and solemn. Beside him were Greta and her younger sister Hellene, both dressed to impress. Greta wore her finest silk gown, her smile barely more than a mask, less warmth, more weary relief.
Greta stood tall, spine straight, her face once again cloaked in that cool, unreadable calm. At her side was Duke Matthias, poised and proud, ready to greet the man who'd declared he'd be leaving the mansion at first light.
