A fire burned steadily in the otherwise dark and gloomy office of the Lothian Marquis. Unlike the Great Hall, no chandeliers had been lit, and no lamps burned. Outside the large windows of the manor, the gray, overcast skies blotted out the sun, making it feel like evening was approaching even though it wasn't yet midday.
In front of the hearth, Bors sprawled in an overstuffed chair with his boots and stockings off, toasting his feet by the fire and feeling the softness of a demon-fur rug between his toes.
"You can relax, Gil," the Marquis said as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of warmth from the fire. "Take off your boots and fetch a bottle from the case behind my desk," he said with a vague wave of his hand. "Bring two cups, deep ones," he added. "The news isn't good."
"What news?" Sir Gilander asked as he wandered through the trophies that dominated half of Bors' office to find a good bottle of wine.
