The Merchant's Manor
The sun hung low over Caerywn, the capital of Velmora, as the final golden hues of the day bathed the city in a warm, regal glow. Ivory towers caught the light like spears of flame, and banners along the high walls fluttered gently in the breeze.
But beneath the grandeur of the capital's skyline, a quieter, narrower road wound its way toward the aging manor of House Crydias.
The carriage—black, lacquered, and crested with the faded emblem of the merchant house—rumbled gently through the wrought-iron gates. As it passed, they closed behind with a sharp clang, barring the estate from the outside world. No common eyes would witness what followed.
Virellen stood at the foot of the marble staircase leading to the manor's main doors. She was no longer garbed in her maid's attire. Instead, she wore a fitted gown of storm-gray silk and high boots of ash leather, subtle jewelry adorning her ears and wrists.
