Dawn Territory, the Count's castle.
Sunlight streamed through the tall, dust-covered arch windows, casting columns of light.
The light fell upon the long table in the council hall, illuminating Diana Dawn, who sat at its head.
Her back was ramrod straight, like a rapier ready to be drawn, as she struggled to maintain the dignity of the Dawn family.
But the pale blue linen dress, washed a little too white, hung loosely on her frame. The once-snug tailoring now had a little too much room at the waist and across the shoulder blades.
Clearly, the recent period of exhausting worry had made her figure even more slender than before.
Her treasurer, Hubert, stood before the table. His graying hair was impeccably combed, yet the cuffs of his old, stiffly starched coat were frayed at the edges.
He opened the ledger in his hands.
"My Lady, the treasury… only has three thousand, four hundred Golden Suns left."
He paused, then added with difficulty.
