The air cooled as Jack descended into the lower reaches of the Kaiser estate.
The smell of wet stone and the faint tang of iron was thick in the air.
Candles guttered in the wall along the stairwell left just enough light to reveal the narrow path.
The hush down here was a different species of quiet.
Not absence of sound, but the eerie quiet that came before something important happened.
At the final landing a guard straightened, his fist slammed against his chest in a crisp salute.
"Lord Kaiser."
Jack inclined his head and pushed through the heavy oak door.
The chamber beyond was a square room.
A table scarred by old knives, three chairs, a clay jug of water, and a single lantern whose light pooled like molten gold.
Father Caelen stood by the far wall, his staff upright, both hands folded over the polished head.
The nervous, half-frenzied priest Jack had first met was gone; in his place stood a man tempered like iron.
"You look tired," Jack said quietly.
