The letter arrived at dawn, delivered by a single rider in plain livery who vanished into the mist before the gates could be fully raised. No banners. No escort. No seal of the great houses. Only a slim envelope of black-edged parchment, addressed in elegant script to "Sir Aiden, Knight of the leonidus, Merlin."
Aiden stood alone in the small solar adjoining his chambers, the winter light pale through frost-laced windows. The rest of the house still slept, wrapped in the exhausted peace that follows nights of surrender. He broke the seal with a thumb, unfolded the single sheet, and began to read.
