| [the commander of skyfire locks lives in a little cabin on a hill just south of haldrath's march.
the cabin is his house, but not his home. it is not a home to anyone in any real sense. it is sparsely furnished — its walls decorated not with portraits, or paintings, but with announcements for the knights that pass back and forth between their young lord's office and their barracks — and it is cozy only because the fireplace works and its hearth is always stoked.
lord francel de haillenarte toils at his desk, even now, this early in the morning. he has a stack of paperwork to his left, a bottle of wine to his right, and a bouquet of white lilies at the far end of his table. the documents are things he must read and sign by the end of the day, the bottle of wine is for the guest he is receiving, and the bouquet of lilies is because haurchefant is dead, and nothing will ever change that, and no one will ever bring him back.
francel signs another contract, then sets his quill against his table, and stares, unseeing, at the flowers.
the lord commander is coming, he knows, to discuss — something; he doesn't know; it doesn't matter. the lord commander will ask him for some favor, no doubt, and the lord commander will probably get whatever it is that he wants. after the meeting, francel will take his bouquet and go up to the monument stone at providence point — the only place he will ever be able to mourn the death of his best and only friend — and then, when he comes back down the road, he will think about throwing himself into witchdrop, as he often does these days.
and haurchefant never loved him the way that he loved haurchefant — but francel knew that. he knew that.
when at last ser aymeric walks into francel's home, he will find the young lord working as if in a state of fugue — blue eyes downcast and empty, sight unseeing. he nods, a little distractedly. he does not give the lord commander the respect he is due.]
...Ser Aymeric. What a pleasure it is to have you here at Skyfire Locks. |
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