Night had fully settled over the Peak by the time Trafalgar returned to his chamber. The funeral had ended hours ago, yet sleep refused to come. He lay on the bed in silence, one arm behind his head while the other hovered idly over the translucent status window in front of him, his eyes moving over the numbers and letters without taking much of them in. Too much had happened in too little time, and even with the mountain wrapped in silence, his mind had not slowed enough to rest.
After a while, he gave up. He pushed himself off the bed and left the room, deciding to walk instead. This time he had no intention of returning to the Cemetery of Swords. The last time he wandered there, Armand had found him. Tonight he wanted to see more of the fortress itself.
