He settled himself at his chair and retrieved a small, hand-carved box from his top desk drawer. No, the only sound was of the fire popping merrily in the hearth, and the only troubles were the sort that money could solve.Ī pile of letters awaited him on his desk, and he’d been looking forward to opening them all day. Nothing could trouble him - not even the grumblings of the servants, or the bickering of his sons. But in the heart of his office, he couldn’t hear her. It was very likely that his wife nagged on, that she was still ranting to whoever would listen about how she’d have to run the house all on her own for the whole trade season. This was the one point in the Kingdom where the worries of the earth couldn’t touch him. It was a small room: a desk, a chair, and a roaring hearth were about all that would fit into it. He closed the heavy oaken doors behind him and breathed a sigh of relief. He shuffled through a darkened hallway, nodding distractedly to the servants as he went, before he finally made it into the safety of his office.
He’d just barely escaped the dinner table with his hide intact - and if he wanted to keep it that way, he knew he had to move quickly. But most importantly, the roads would be packed with merchants once again.įor one particular merchant, spring couldn’t come fast enough. Soon, the air would be filled with the songs of birds, and the ice covering the horses’ water would finally melt on its own. Winter was fading, spring was fast on its heels, and green, furled leaves had begun sprouting across the Grandforest’s tallest limbs. And for a moment, the whole Kingdom was colored in red. The sun slid between the horizon and the westward sky, moving as surely as an assassin’s blade through flesh.