The evening had settled over Frosthold like a warm blanket, the sun setting behind the mountains, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold that spilled through the high windows of the magnificent hall. The last rays of light caught the dust motes dancing in the air, turning them into tiny sparks of gold. The great hall was empty; the warriors were finished with their evening meal, and the servants were clearing the last of the tables in the adjoining rooms. The fire crackled in the enormous hearth, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls, filling the vast space with warmth and the scent of burning pine.
