By the time the iron gates of the Aldenar estate in the capital came into view, Elric was a vision of controlled catastrophe. His armor was caked in the grey dust of the road, his face a mask of exhaustion and lethal intent. He didn't slow down as he approached the courtyard. He jumped from the saddle while the horse was still in a gallop, the beast sliding to a halt as Elric hit the gravel with a heavy, metallic thud.
"Lord Elric!" a stable hand cried, ducking as the Duke stormed past. "You… you're back! The front lines…"
Elric didn't hear him. The uneasy feeling in his chest had reached a fever pitch, a thrumming vibration that told him the house was empty of the one thing that made it a home.
He threw open the heavy doors of the manor. The servants froze in the foyer, mops and silver trays nearly clattering to the floor. The air in the house felt stagnant, heavy with a guilt that none of them could hide.
