Weaver Household
Royal carriages stood silently in front of the grand estate. Royal Knights flanked them, standing beside their horses with still, disciplined posture.
Inside the mansion, silence reigned.
Frecio stood quietly outside the house leader's room, his eyes resting on the old paintings hung across the hallway. The silence was heavy—no voices, no footsteps. The air itself seemed to hold its breath.
No servants were allowed on the first floor, not even the head mead or private butlers.
In the room beyond, Prince Charles sat alone on a velvet couch. Laid out before him was a lavish spread—platters of rich foods, colorful desserts, fine wines, and exotic beverages. But not a single dish had been touched by him.
His eyes were locked on a single sheet of paper. The longer he stared, the more the sweat gathered on his brow.
*Knock-Knock*
The sudden sound startled him. His head snapped toward the door, heart thudding at an incredible speed.
*Phew...*
