Edrin Caul woke before the bells rang.
Not early enough to be praised for discipline, and not late enough to be noticed. Soft light entered his room through tall windows that faced an inner courtyard instead of the street. He pulled the curtains back just enough to check the weather. He never opened them fully.
The room was simple and neat. A wooden desk stood against the wall, its surface clear except for a few books stacked to one side. They were mostly history and philosophy, nothing rare or impressive. His boots were placed carefully beneath a chair. The chair's fabric was worn but clean. Nothing in the room stood out, and nothing looked neglected.
He dressed without looking into a mirror.
He already knew how his clothes fit. His coats were well made but plain, chosen to avoid attention. The colors were safe, the cut proper. When he finished dressing, there was no sense of pride or doubt—only the feeling of being ready to leave the room.
Breakfast was served quietly.
A maid set a tray on the table: bread, butter, tea, and an egg. She greeted him politely, waited for a moment as if expecting instructions, then left when none came. Edrin ate slowly while skimming the morning circular. He stopped reading halfway through and folded it without thinking.
After breakfast, he took his usual walk.
He passed through the courtyard, along the stone path beside the neighboring estate, then back toward the study wing. The route never changed. When he met others, they nodded to him, and he returned the gesture. No one stopped him to talk. No one avoided him either. It was a comfortable balance.
By midmorning, he was seated at his desk.
He copied passages from a borrowed book into a notebook, writing carefully and leaving wide margins. When his thoughts grew too long, he shortened them. He had learned early that it was better to say less than necessary.
Near noon, a letter arrived.
The paper was plain. The seal belonged to House Rethval, pressed neatly without decoration. It was an invitation to a small gathering that evening—conversation, light food, familiar faces. Nothing important. Nothing troublesome.
Edrin read the letter once and placed it beside his ink bottle
He did not feel anticipation or reluctance. When the time came, he would go. When it ended, he would return. The thought settled easily in his mind.As the afternoon passed and shadows stretched across the courtyard, he selected a coat suitable for the evening. Dark, clean, unremarkable. He laid it over the back of his chair.In the distance, the bells began to ring.
Edrin reached for the coat.