The first thing Trafalgar noticed was the cold. Even from inside the Gate building, the chill seeped through the stone walls. Beyond the tall glass windows, snow drifted down steadily, painting Euclid in white. The city at the foot of the Morgain mountains always carried winter in its bones.
The hall was quiet but tense. Two Morgain soldiers guarded the entrance, spears crossed in ceremonial vigilance. Near them stood the clerk Trafalgar remembered from his last visit—the man who handled the Gate's ledgers and reports.
The clerk's eyes widened the instant he recognized him. "Oh! Lord Trafalgar, what a surprise to see you alive and well. I assume you've come because of what happened at the estate…"
One of the guards turned sharply, his tone biting. "That's not something you should speak of so freely. Watch yourself."
The clerk bristled, jaw tightening. "I know. But believe me when I say this—I am one of the most affected. Lord Mordrek was a good man… and a better governor."
